


Heart Wood

by appleblossomgirl



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleblossomgirl/pseuds/appleblossomgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>District 12 AU set before the 74th Hunger Games. A particularly good hunting trip eases the Everdeen Family’s desperation and gives Katniss time and energy to focus on other things. Some Galeniss early on, Everlark endgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> First posted for Prompts In Panem Farewell Tour. Because I have loved so many Everlark stories, I wanted to try my hand at contributing something to this sweet, gooey fanfic madness.
> 
> Unending gratitude to Court81981 for her incomparable beta skills, inspiring writing and all around awesomeness.
> 
> Court warned me (hilariously and repeatedly) that the Katniss/Gale relationship depicted in this story would not be welcomed by many readers. I just want to reiterate from the summary that this long and winding road leads to the Emerald City of Everlark, but there are some Gale-related detours. If that is going to bum you out, feel free to sit this one out. If not, welcome, and let's get started!

It all started with the oak tree. After a hot, dry summer, the autumn turned quickly, bringing a sudden cold snap with the start of school. Autumn was always my favorite season, as I could generally make a living for my family in the forest beyond the fence. It is a compressed period of time when the game is the fattest it’s going get and the inherent motivation of the impending winter drives all creatures out to get while the getting is good, before the snow sticks. 

This year, the giant black oak near Gale’s and my meeting spot was laden with more acorns than I had ever seen. One October morning, ignoring the gnawing hunger in my belly, I rose at the crack the dawn to meet Gale, to check the snare line before school. I watched the white puffs of my breath dissipate before me as we jogged to the fence line and quickly slipped under. As we made our way to the flat rock where we often met after checking the snares, it was like the tree had been magically covered in acorns overnight. The branches were alive with song birds and squirrels, while chipmunks flitted about the base of the tree. Gale and I stopped in our tracks, bringing up our bows in unison, communicating the way we do best. I could barely decide what to shoot first, but felled four squirrels and a chipmunk before the animals caught on to the fact that they were under attack. Gale had done nearly as well, and combined with the two rabbits we had caught in the snares, it was the best day in months.  


Then it began to snow. For the next week we were in a race against the weather as the temperatures rose enough during the day to thaw the sprinkling of snow that fell the previous evening. We filled our game bags with squirrels and rabbits, enough to trade and feed our families. Gale and I rushed out of school, taking a meandering path through the Seam, slipping quietly under different spots in the fence. After gathering our bows and checking each of our sections of the snare line, we met to approach the oak tree. The tree and the game it attracted had become a test of wills for me. My instinct was to get there as quickly as possible and shoot as many creatures as I could before they scattered and took cover. Gale argued on the side of strategy and patience.  


“Haven’t you heard about a bird in the hand,” I began to quote an ancient saying that I remember in my dad’s sing-song cadence as I pulled against Gale’s hand. 

“Haven’t you ever heard of patience? Actually, don’t answer that, Catnip. I’m pretty sure you haven’t,” he smirked, not loosening his grasp. “Guess you’re just gonna need to defer to your elders if you want your arm back.” 

“Come on, Gale, we’re losing the light and it’s freezing out here,” I huffed. He stepped up behind me, rubbing his hands up my arms and sides. I could feel the warmth of them through the leather of my dad’s hunting jacket and was startled by the weird flicker of warmth that flared in my belly. I pulled away, starting to move forward as he caught me again.

“Seriously, Catnip, we’re doing this my way,” he stated as he pushed me behind him and outlined our need to take cover near the tree, to assess the activity and decide our best plan of action.

Grumbling to myself that I should be making the rules since I was the better shot, I followed his direction, crouching behind a bush safely upwind of the tree. I was just about to move into better shot range, as my hands were going numb, when five deer appeared beneath the tree. I pulled up my bow, shaking with excitement, and took aim at the largest buck, who lowered his heavy antlered head to munch on acorns. Gale’s breath in my ear and the resulting shudder that ran up my spine was the only thing that stilled my arrow. He gestured silently towards the smaller buck, passing over two does that were slightly larger. I shook my head, but he directed my shoulders, lining up the shot. I fought the defiance that flared in me and accepted that he had been right so far today. I exhaled slowly and brought the young buck down with one arrow, lodged in his left eye. The other deer were gone by the time I got the second arrow notched and I swore in frustration. 

“Crap, Gale, you shouldn’t sneak up on me. I could have shot you,” I breathed.

“Why do think I got so close?” he asked, grinning like an idiot.

“Why did you stop me from taking the largest buck?” I demanded.

“Trust me, this was the right thing to do to rebuild the deer population in our woods,” he assured me. I started to protest, but he cut me off by placing his palm over my mouth. “Christ, Catnip, we got a deer!” The giddiness finally cut through my fog of frustration. I let out the breath of indignation I was holding and felt my lip split as it broke into a smile. That’s how out of practice I was; my lips didn’t even stretch that far. 

We quickly field-dressed the buck and between the two of us were barely able to lug it back to the fence line. I hid with the carcass as Gale ran back to the Seam to get his younger brother and wheelbarrow. As the sun set, we stacked some willow branches and kindling from the meadow over the carcass and wound our way through back alleys back to his house. His mother, Hazelle, helped us to skin and butcher the carcass, while Gale’s siblings danced and whooped through the kitchen. I glanced up at Gale, who had a streak of blood across his forehead and whose face was lit up with the widest smile I had ever seen on him. I was struck by how beautiful he was. I sucked on my split lip and tried not stare as he glanced up at me.

“What’s the matter? You can’t seriously still be mad at me?” he demanded. I just rolled my eyes and focused on not cutting off my finger as I rocked the mallet and knife through bone, hoping he confused my blush with exertion. What the hell was wrong with me? Gale was widely acknowledged to be one of the best looking guys at our school, but the word “beautiful” had never crossed my mind before. I had spent countless hours with him in the woods, walking to and from school, in our family’s homes. Over the past four years since we had met at one of his snares, he had become my best friend, my family. As I glanced up, I watched his tongue slip out to run along his bottom lip, my stomach squirmed. It felt weird, wrong for my body to respond to him like this. I shook my head to banish the urge to watch him some more. 

The next morning was Saturday and we made a plan to meet and sell the meat. It was likely more than we could unload at the Hob, but we had to be extremely careful not to get caught. The Peacekeepers could look the other way for a few rabbits and squirrels that could be explained by a lucky catch in the meadow, but a deer required weapons and that was a hanging offense. As I slipped off to sleep that night pressed against my sister’s frail body, my mind skipped between the new boots and winter coat I would be able to buy for Prim and the lock of dark hair that slipped over Gale’s gray eye as his head dipped forward mid laugh and his chapped lips stretched tightly in a grin.

That haul got us through the winter. It wasn’t easy living, but the coin we made from the venison, along with the meager winter catch, got both our families through. It was the first winter since our fathers had died that I was able to think beyond our next meal. 

Being well fed brought an array of improvements to my life. Besides easing my constant worry about Prim’s and my mother’s survival, the steady food supply widened my view of the world. Before, my attention and limited energy were laser focused on survival; now, I became aware of things occurring in my periphery. As my ribs became less prominent and my body began to soften into curves, my strength and endurance grew. So did my attention span and ability to listen to my teachers through an entire school day. I actually had a lunch to eat with Madge, and began to listen and be aware of my classmates. 

Another thing that had changed was my awareness of Gale. I had always relied on him, but now I noticed him. I noticed him. I became acutely aware of his size, the strip of taut brown stomach that became increasingly visible as his the muscles in his shoulders stretched his shirt tight. The deep rumble of his laugh that seemed to erupt from his belly. And the lazy, lopsided grin that made his left eye squint slightly more than his right, and made my stomach flip uncomfortably every single time. Then I’d feel foolish and annoyed with him for hours afterward.

One late April morning as we were making our way through town to make our trades with merchants before heading to the Hob, we made our usual stop at the back door to the bakery. Instead of Mr. Mellark, his youngest son Peeta who was in my class at school met us at the door. The spring had been good to him too. His cheeks were pink and thin sheen of sweat coated him, causing his thin shirt to cling to his neck and shoulders. The intensity of his blue, blue eyes caused me to look down. 

“Hi, Gale. Hi, Katniss,” he said softly. “My dad’s still upstairs. Are you here to trade?” When I glanced back up, he was still staring at me. I hoped the pink in my cheeks would be mistaken for a wind burn.

Gale glanced back at me before settling the trade. 

“Damn, Catnip, remind me never to fall in love with you,” Gale chuckled as we moved down the alley behind the bakery.

“What the hell does that mean,” I snapped, fearing he’d sensed the change in my attention towards him.

“Nothing,” he responded, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s just, I knew that Mellark kid has had it bad for you for years now, but that poor bastard couldn’t keep his eyes off you and you were just cold.” He shook his head in mock sympathy, but couldn’t keep the amused look off his face. 

“You’re nuts. He was probably just trying to avoid looking at your ugly face.” I felt myself blushing again, and looked out at the square. Gale’s observation embarrassed me, but as we rounded the corner to the front of the bakery I caught a quick glimpse of those sky blue eyes through the storefront window. My mind flashed with what felt like hundreds of times I had seen that electric blue gaze before quickly glancing away, as if I’d been burned. We had a connection, Peeta and me, ever since the day he gave me the bread, but rather than linking us together, that kindness had made me avoid him entirely. The enormity of his kindness and the inequity it created between us made me so uncomfortable. How do you repay someone for saving your life, the lives of your mother and sister? So I had spent years studiously avoiding Peeta, which wasn’t that hard, since I avoided pretty much everyone, wrapped in my misery and need. Now that my circumstances were so improved, I vowed to pay him a kindness in return so I could owe him just a little less.

After a lucrative trade of fresh meat for candles and soap and a breakfast bowl of soup at Greasy Sae’s stand, the morning was warming up.Gale and I made our way back to the Seam. I became acutely aware of each accidental brush of his arm against mine, every bump of his shoulder. I became distracted by his long fingers as they gesticulated through a story I was barely hearing beyond the comforting rumble of his voice. 

Then those long, graceful fingers snapped in front of my face, “Earth to Katniss, you feelin’ ok? You look a little flushed.” 

“I’m fine,” I responded defensively, “Just a little tired this morning,” I added, a bit apologetically.

“K, good,” he said, glancing at me sideways. “We’re still meeting after school to check the snare line, right?” Two trips a day had been standard this spring considering the hauls we were bringing in. 

I nodded curtly and broke off to head home. As I dressed for school, I unbraided my hair, pulling out small twigs and leaves. I glanced at my reflection in the glass of the kitchen cabinet and self-consciously assessed my long, dark waves. With my improved diet, my hair had become thick and glossy. I considered leaving it down, but admonished myself for dwelling on my appearance. I quickly rebraided it.

The day was warm, and school felt like torture. I tried to focus on my lessons, but more often than not I found myself staring out the window, waiting for the moment I would feel Gale beside me as we made our way through our woods.  


Throughout the years, I had heard the lascivious comments from girls about how gorgeous he was and the things they longed to do with him. Some even went so far as to claim specific knowledge of his skills, though I had never paid their gossip much attention. He must have heard all of this too, but he never seemed to reciprocate their lustful intentions. I had seen several girls in the grades above me unabashedly stare him, hunger plain on their faces, as we walked through town. I had only seen him meet their gaze a handful of times. At nearly 18, I figured he was not a dewy innocent, but other than the time he had disappeared with Leevy after a wedding celebration earlier this year, and reappeared with swollen, reddened lips, I had no idea what his experience entailed. 

As I turned from the window, the image of Gale’s lips lingering in my mind, I caught the familiar flash of blue as Peeta, one row over, glanced away. I found myself tracing the shape of his lips with my eyes. They were such a softer shade of pink than Gale’s, and far less chapped. In fact, they looked incredibly soft and I had an urge to run my tongue along his bottom lip to see if it tasted sweet. Shocked at the impulse, I shook my head and darted out of the classroom as the lesson ended.

After waiting for at least fifteen minutes in front of the school, my usual meeting place with Gale, I irritably walked back along the hallway looking for him. I ran across his friend Thom and asked if he’d seen Gale. 

“I think he’ll be along in a few minutes, why don’t you wait for him out front?” he asked with a strange, half smile. I narrowed my eyes at him and offered a quick, “Thanks,” before heading back. As I rounded the end of the hallway, I decided to check around the back of the building towards the lunch yard. Maybe he had forgotten something. As I neared the back of the school, I heard something that made me stop. I wasn’t sure what the noise was, but felt myself slip into hunter mode, the hair on the back of my neck prickling up. I crept towards the edge of the building and froze. Gale was leaning against the wall in obvious pain. His head was tipped back and his eyes tightly shut, a sweaty sheen coating his face. He was breathing hard and his breath caught as a low grunt slipped through his parted lips. He reached his hand forward and seemed to rest it on something obscured by a low bush. 

I wanted to rush to him, to find out what was wrong, but my instincts kept me still as I shifted slightly to glance around the shrub to see what we were dealing with. All of the air left my lungs as I took in the sight of Elsa Fairbrook on her knees in front of Gale, her blue eyes raptly staring up at his face as her mouth and hand worked his slick cock. She was making breathy little moans as she slid her lips up and down his shaft. Gale’s hand was wound through her glossy blonde hair, and his head dropped forward as he let out a soft, low moan. 

The shock of adrenaline that nearly made me bolt was only tempered by years of practice mastering my flight response. I crept back a step and pressed my body to the wall, counting my inhales to keep them steady. My racing heart was just slowing to a reasonable rhythm when Gale let out a guttural grunt. I ran. I didn’t stop as I sprinted past the front of the school and ran towards town. I snaked through the alleys behind the shops, my feet following our familiar trading route. My panic had started to subside and I had begun to slow as I reached the back entrance to the bakery. I placed my hands on my knees and tried to catch my breath. 

“Katniss? What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’s happened to you?” My head snapped up to find Peeta Mellark standing by the steps to alley entrance of the bakery, holding a bag of garbage. He dropped the bag and rushed forward to stand directly in front of me, face full of concern, hands hovering to either side of my ribs, but not touching me. I could feel the warmth of them through my shirt.

I stared up at him. I was sweating from exertion, shaking from the emotional panic coursing through my body. I took a quick inventory and found a tangled web of fear, embarrassment, and yes, arousal, which added a new wave of shame and confusion to the mix. I stared up into Peeta’s concerned face and wanted to bury myself in his chest until I could make sense of things. His broad chest covered in damp, white cotton, giving off a glorious smell of baking bread. What the hell was wrong with me? I straightened to standing and narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m fine,” I growled at him, stepping away from his warmth.

He looked momentarily taken aback, a flash of hurt clouding those blue eyes, before he took a deep breath and smiled softly, saying, “Of course you are. Just out for an afternoon jog?” He caught a drip of sweat on his finger as it slid down my jaw, saying teasingly, “I’d hate to be up against you in a foot race.” I found my lips angling up into a smile before I could stop myself, so I darted around him and stomped down the alley, turning only as I reached the corner, barely catching sight of him sucking his finger as he stepped back through the bakery door. 

When Gale stopped by that night to find out why I hadn’t been there on the snare run, I told Prim to tell him I was sick. She gave me a perplexed look as she complied with my request. I heard Gale expressing concern and telling her to let me know to rest and he’d make the run on his own in the morning. 

Lying next to Prim in bed that night, my body buzzed with energy and my mind was a restless mess of thoughts. I was furious at Gale. How could he have stood me up? He knew I was waiting for him. How could he have let a girl, a merchant girl, no less, do that to him? I couldn’t stop associating that look on his face with pain, though surely, combined with those sounds, it wasn’t. Oh, those sounds. I couldn’t stop hearing the echo of that noise he had made. The tension in my stomach and the throb between my legs was becoming too uncomfortable to ignore. This feeling wasn’t entirely new, and had become more frequent over the past few months. It seemed as I spent less time absorbed with the means of survival for my family, my hunger for food was replaced by my physical desire for touch. My body had replaced starvation with arousal. While less life-threatening, it was scarcely less distracting. I was starting to feel that I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else until I had him in my mouth and he was grunting and moaning for me alone. 

That image was too much for me and slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, make sure not to wake Prim. I crept into the kitchen and surveyed our small living space. The couch was directly below the window and next to the door, and while I couldn’t imagine anyone coming to the door at this time of night, the moon was full enough to make the couch too exposed to be an option. Instead, I leaned against the small table tucked into the shadows of the kitchen. I slid the flat of my hand down my stomach and past the edge of my underwear. My fingers found the throbbing spot immediately, which kind of surprised me, as my arousal generally felt so vast and internal, not so geographically defined to such a small, distinct fold of flesh. I was slick and wet and it look a couple of tries to get the friction I was so desperately craving. The sensation was overwhelming; I couldn’t tell if it was more of an itch or a scratch. I dropped down to my elbow as my frantic rubbing brought the waves of pleasure crashing over me, but the sensations were almost too intense. I was quietly gasping and my legs were shaking as I reached a sharp peak of pleasure, which forced the air from my lungs then subsided into ebbing waves and contractions. I was amazed my body could feel like that. A soft clunk from the other room as someone shifted in their sleep quickly brought me back to the fact that I was standing in the kitchen and I retracted my hand and glanced around, embarrassed. I definitely wanted to try that again, but would have to wait until an extended medical housecall for my mom and Prim afforded me some privacy. 

I slipped back into bed, my mind settled. Now that my body was slightly less demanding, I could think about the practicalities. How did I make it happen with Gale? What had transpired between Gale and Elsa from the time class let out, to her falling on her knees and taking him in her mouth? Should I just drop down before him while he reconnected a snare and bury my face in his crotch? This seemed utterly ridiculous, though more than slightly appealing. Our height difference made kissing him difficult unless he was sitting. Besides, I wanted him to kiss me. As some point I drifted off with the thought of Gale’s lips on mine.

I woke up late the next morning, which annoyed me. Then I remembered how upset I was with Gale and became thoroughly cranky. I was grateful that Prim had faked illness the night before, and that he wasn’t expecting me for the pre-school hunting rounds. I scarfed down a meager breakfast and growled at Prim to hurry up. 

“I wasn’t the one who woke up late,” she chided, smiling as she scooped her school books up, handed me a lunch pail and walked out the door ahead of me. I scowled at her and she grabbed my hand, swinging our linked arms between us.  
“Sorry for snapping, Little Duck,” I said, glancing at her sideways as we walked. The improvement in our diet had done wonders for Prim too and I noticed that despite being only twelve, she was nearly eye level with me. From the looks of things, she would outgrow me by summer’s end. 

“It was more of a snarl, considering that you’re all bark and no bite,” she teased. I smiled, despite the mood still gnawing at my insides. How could she always make me feel better? 

It was the last week of school prior to the reaping break and even the teachers seemed to have trouble focusing. I made it all the way through the day before I found myself confronting Peeta’s stare in our last class. Unlike usual, neither of us glanced away immediately. I stared harder, challenging him to look away. I watched as a blush spread up his neck and across his cheeks, but he didn’t drop his gaze and I felt my own blood heat slightly in response. I looked away in confusion, feeling like my body was reacting entirely of its own accord. As we were dismissed, I rushed for the door, but felt Peeta’s hand on my shoulder as I squeezed into the hallway. 

I gave him a sharp look and his hand moved from my shoulder. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, paper-wrapped parcel. We were being jostled along the hallway as he slipped the parcel into my hand and said softly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “To keep your energy up, in case you decided to jog home again.” And then he was gone, caught up in a swirl of his friends. 

As I glanced over my shoulder, I walked straight into Gale’s chest. 

“Whoa, Catnip, easy there,” he laughed and caught my arm as I bounced backwards, stumbling slightly. “You feeling any better? I missed you this morning.” I stared at him, not knowing how to respond. 

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, looking down and loosening my grip on the parcel Peeta has slipped into my hand. 

“Are you feeling up to coming to the bonfire tonight?” he asked.

“I guess so,” I responded. I had forgotten about the bonfire. It was one of the few gatherings that the Peacekeepers turned a blind eye towards, allowing the Reaping-age kids to celebrate the end of the term and a brief respite before the Reaping. I had attended last year for the first time, but being sixteen this year, it an expected event.

“I’ll take Rory on the snare run so you can rest up. Do you want me to swing by your house so we can walk into town together?” he asked. My eyes snapped to his, trying to read his familiar gray gaze. Was he asking me to go to the celebration with him or just to walk with me?

“Okay,” was all I managed. He gave me a perplexed look as he walked backwards away from me and said, “Maybe you should lie down for a bit, you still look weird.” And then he was gone. 

As I exited the school building and started home, I slowly unwrapped the parchment and found a slightly crushed, but very lovely sugar cookie with perfectly iced katniss flower. Again, with the kindness. His unencouraged generosity made no sense, but I didn’t want to think about it, I wanted to eat it. It was beautiful, but I didn’t hesitate to shove half of it my mouth and savor the buttery sweetness as it melted against my tongue.

My mom insisted on loaning me a dress for the bonfire. I gave her my usual scowl, but was secretly grateful. It was a soft orangish-yellow with a scooped neckline and had a sash that tied in the back. It looked too fancy for my hunting boots, but they would have to do. Prim helped me comb out my hair and secured little twirled sections back with pins. I waited on the porch for Gale to pick me up.

He whistled softly as he mounted the stairs to the porch. “Damn, Catnip, are you actually wearing a honest-to-goodness dress? I don’t think I would have recognized you if it weren’t for the shoes,” he teased. “I got to admit that you clean up nice.” He handed me a leather satchel with my portion of today’s haul, which I handed to Prim as she hugged me goodbye. 

“You too,” I responded lamely. But he really did. He had on soft gray shirt that made this dark skin and neatly combed hair stand out in contrast, but perfectly accented his hawk-like eyes. His dark trousers were pressed and his hunting boots had been cleaned. He looked like a man.

“Stop gawking at my handsomeness and let’s go,” Gale smirked and offered me his arm. 

I grasped his elbow and hopped down the porch steps, muttering, “Don’t flatter yourself.” But I couldn’t help the excitement that flickered through me. This was really happening. I felt a nervous flip in my stomach and found that I couldn’t think of single thing to say. We walked most of the way in silence, but I was acutely aware of his lithe frame beside me. His movements seemed even more graceful than usual and with a potent mix of anticipation and apprehension, I wondered what was going to happen tonight.  


The sun was just setting as we approached the bonfire. Several of Gale’s friends greeted him with hugs and hearty handshakes as they handed him a bottle, which he drank deeply from. I stood back, not sure where to be. I spied Madge closer to the fire and made my way over to say hello. She handed me a small flask and asked that I hold on to it for her, as she couldn’t be caught with it. I took small sips, which burned on their way down my throat. I looked for Gale, but couldn’t find him right away. Then, to my horror, I saw him slip into the shadows with Aspen Blythe, a girl his age that lived just a few houses down from us. I watched the spot where I had seen them disappear, willing them to come back. This couldn’t be happening; we had come here together. I thought he understood.

I sat down on a log set back from but facing the bonfire, and took a long pull from the flask. The pleasant warmth in my belly had shifted and my head felt light and floaty. The exact opposite of my spirits. I couldn’t work out whether I was more furious at Gale or myself for getting my hopes up. I was so mired in my disappointment I didn’t notice Peeta until he sat down on the log beside me. 

“Hi,” he said brightly. His cheeks flushed from the fire or the drink, or both. His white shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the white undershirt below. The flames danced in his eyes, which, I noticed, were slightly unfocused. 

“Hey,” I sighed, glancing back to the fire.

“That good, huh?” He bumped my shoulder lightly with his own.

“What?” He seemed to think we were continuing some previous conversation. I didn’t want to be rude to him, particularly after the kindness he showed me today, but I was feeling even less chatty than usual.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “You just looked so miserable over here, I couldn’t help but wonder what you were thinking about. Though I have to admit that I’ve spent more time than I care to admit wondering what you’re thinking about,” he sheepishly admitted.  


I shrugged and bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him.

“I’ve made a study of your scowls over the years and I think this one might be your deepest yet,” he said, raising his eyebrows and grinning. I whipped my head around to tell him it was none of his business and nearly fell off the log as a wave of dizziness engulfed me. He caught me, wrapping an arm around my lower back and I nearly ended up on his lap as we righted ourselves. His face was inches from mine and I heard his breath catch as he stared down into my eyes. A wave of heat rolled through me as I took in the look of pure desire in his eyes. I glanced over the spot where Gale and Aspen had failed to reappear and grabbed Peeta’s hand.

My head felt like a balloon as I led Peeta away from the fire. He followed without a word, stumbling slightly behind me. I had no idea where I was going, but pulled him into an alleyway off of the square. He leaned against the wall, staring down at me.  


“Katniss?” he asked tentatively, all of the teasing gone from his voice. He was still holding my hand and I tugged down on it, pulling him forward and bringing his face down to mine. I had spent so much time over the past few months imagining kissing Gale, wondering how to initiate it, I was amazed at how easy it was to end up in this position. Peeta’s eyes were wide and glassy, his lips slightly parted and his breath coming in little pants. I leaned in and lightly brushed my lips against his. He made a breathy little moaning sound and it ignited something deep in my belly. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, securing my leverage and deepening the kiss. Up until this point he’d been pretty passive, tentatively responding to me. As I sucked against his lips, he suddenly took control, wrapping both his arms around my waist and pulling me up against his body. We were fused from chest to groin and my dress was riding up my thighs. The first swipe of his tongue against mine sent a lazy peal of heat down my spine. I gasped and pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath before placing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. He groaned as I sucked his earlobe into my mouth and the sound caused my clit to throb. In response, he grabbed my ass and pressed me against him as his hips thrust forward. I pulled back and stared at him; I couldn’t believe how good it felt. He stood up abruptly, tipping his head back and mumbling an apology.

“I’m so sorry, Katniss. I didn’t mean to, I got carried away. I never thought…” he stammered.

“No. I liked it. I like it.” I tried to pull him back down to me, but he only kissed me softly while holding my hips away from him.

“Katniss?” I heard Gale’s voice, rough and sharp with accusation from the end of the alley. Peeta and I stepped apart and Gale grasped my arm, pulling me back towards the bonfire. 

“C’mon, I better get you home,” Gale said as I tore my arm from his grasp. I walked several steps ahead of him all the way home. I stumbled several times and he tried to steady me, but I pushed him away. He didn’t say anything as I staggered into my house and quickly closed the door. I made it to the couch where I fell face down as unconsciousness engulfed me.

Thin light was streaming into my face as I cracked my eyes open what felt like minutes later. My head was pounding and my tongue felt thick. I lurched up and barely made it to the bathroom before emptying my stomach contents. I walked gingerly back into the kitchen and gratefully accepted the mug of mint tea from my mom. It was unusual for her to be up so early.

“How was your night?” she asked. I glared at her in response and she gave me a knowing smirk. “The tea will help your stomach and I’ll get you some willow bark for the headache.” 

I spent the morning sulking and waiting for Gale to get a head start before I headed out into the woods. We generally hunted together on weekends, but I was in no mood to see him. As I worked my way through the forest, I tried to unravel the mess of emotions tangled in my queasy gut. I was hurt and confused and kept getting flashes of Peeta’s wide eyes staring at me in what I can only describe as wonder. What the hell was that? I had trouble piecing together how we ended up devouring each other in that alley. We had barely spoken two words to each other, and other than the bread incident—okay, more accurately, the life-saving incident—we had had almost no interaction. Except what Gale said about the poor kid being in love with me. And all of those flashes of blue eyes as they darted away from me. I would have to figure that part out later when my head was clearer.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, a second chapter. The rest of the story is mostly written, so if there is reader interest, it will be updated far more frequently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As is true of every aspect of this story, it was greatly improved by Court81981's editing and input. Who knew that semicolons could be so useful?!

I found myself standing at the heritage oak tree, bow still slung over my shoulder when Gale materialized out of thin air. “Morning, Catnip,” he said warily, taking in my scowl as I tracked him silently with narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it out this morning.”

“I was hoping I was late enough not to see you,” I confessed.

“I’m not sure what you seem to think you have to be angry with me about.” He sounded annoyed and kind of condescending.

“How’s Aspen?” I spat.

He looked a little sheepish as he said, “Uh, good, I think.” He settled next to me, leaning against the massive trunk of the oak. “Is that what you’re pissed about? I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

It was really too much for me at that point. I was hurt and tired and queasy. I pushed away from the tree to stomp off, but he grabbed my arm. “What was that with Mellark?” he asked accusingly. I rounded on him, grabbing his shoulders and planting my lips firmly against his. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t really kiss me back. I pulled back just far enough to search his face. He looked down and tried to step around me, but I planted my feet and blocked his way. He looked at me, finally really looked at me and I stared back into his face defiantly. 

Before I knew what was happening, he had spun me around and pressed my chest into one of the thick branches of the oak tree. His body was pressing against my back, pinning me against the moss-covered bark. “I don’t know what’s going on with you or what you expect from me,” he growled into my ear, sending shivers down my spine, “Is this what you want?” He snaked a hand up the front of my shirt and grasped my breast, squeezing roughly. I moaned and his other hand cupped me through my pants. 

“Yes,” I gasped, and he pushed his hand down my pants. His fingers found my clit immediately and the spark of sensation made me wrap my arms around the branch for support. The hand on my breast had found its way into my bra and his deft fingers were rolling my nipple between them. That sensation coupled with the small, tight circles on my clit was incredible.

“This?” He breathed into my ear as he slipped two fingers into me while rubbing me with the palm of his hand. 

This was nothing like what I did to myself the other night. The sensations, building in waves, pulsed through my entire body, making me weak with pleasure. As the orgasm ripped through me, I cried out.

As the waves receded and I caught my breath, Gale pulled his hands from my clothes and wiped his fingers along the moss on the tree trunk. As he started to step away from me, I turned and reached for him. I slid my hand down his stomach, but he caught me before I reached the button of his pants. “That’s okay,” he said, “I’m good.”

I couldn’t believe it. I searched his face, but found nothing to betray that what had just happened meant anything more to him than pulling a thorn from my hand. My face flushed with humiliation as I snatched up my bow and quiver and bolted.

“Katniss, come on,” he called out exasperatedly as I ran towards the fence. He didn’t come after me. I made it all the way home and slammed the door behind me before I felt the hot tears erupt. I was completely relieved to find a note from my mom that she and Prim were tending to Mrs. Everly’s birth. I fell face down on the bed and cried until I passed out, exhausted.

Later that afternoon, after I had bathed and eaten, I was feeling halfway normal, though still utterly confounded by the events of the past 24 hours. I was so hurt and confused by Gale’s actions that it was hard to think straight. Why didn’t he want me? Was he completely satisfied with those other girls? Did he find me so repulsive that he didn’t want me to touch him? Then why did he do what he did to me? Did he think I was too inexperienced? So much so that I’d suck at it? Was he trying to keep me from embarrassing myself further? I was mortified that he could make me feel so good, but not want me in return. I couldn’t believe that he hadn’t come to talk to me, but couldn’t figure out what I wanted him to say. Did I want an apology? Not really. A confession of love? Yeah, that’d be okay, but I wasn’t sure I’d believe it. Actions had always spoken louder than words between us. Unfortunately, I was confounded by his actions. Why was this so damned hard? I always thought that things between us would be wordless and effortless once we got started, like the hunting relationship we’d developed over the years. 

I jumped when I hear the knock at the door. Finally, I thought as I considered not answering. As I pulled open the door, I was already glaring up, anticipating Gale’s gray eyes and was surprised to see sky blue ones instead. Peeta took a small step backwards, shoving his free hand into his pocket while the other gripped a Mellark’s Bakery parcel. 

“Hi,” he breathed, then cleared his throat and tried again, steadier, “Hi, Katniss.”

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, probably a little harsher than I meant to. I had been bracing myself for a confrontation and found myself unsure how to change gears.

“I, uh, was hoping to talk to you for a minute,” he practically croaked, “Here, I brought these for you.” The savory aroma emanating from the bag and the memory of the buttery cookie melting on my tongue was enough to buy him a few minutes.

“Ok, do you want to come in?” I asked, stepping out of the doorway to allow him entry. He glanced over his shoulder at the porch like it was solid ground compared with the quicksand of my living room. I found myself adding defensively, “Sorry if it’s not up to your usual standards.”

His eyes snapped to mine, a look of frustration flashed across his face before he responded, his voice surprisingly strong, “I’d love to come in. Thank you.”

With a rush of embarrassment, I realized how rude that had been. He was clearly nervous, and if I allowed myself to be honest, I was equally so. I hadn’t seen him since the bonfire and my final foggy memory before Gale pulled me away was Peeta’s sharp, almost pained gasp as we broke our kiss. My cheeks warmed at the memory and I grasped at a distraction as he stepped through the doorway. “So, what’s in the bag?” I asked, gesturing with my chin. 

He thrust the parcel at me. “Cheese buns. I remember them being a favorite of yours when you came into the bakery with your dad.” As I grabbed the parcel, the smell enveloped me in a quick succession of memories: the golden morning light filtering through the window of the bakery, my dad’s large warm hand wrapped around mine, the low rumble of his laugh as he chuckled at something I said, an overwhelming sense of contentment. I stared at the bag, marveling that a scent could conjure up such a thing. 

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Peeta smiled tentatively and looked somewhat relieved. “You’re welcome.”

Gripping the buns to my chest for a second, savoring their warmth through the paper, I fought the urge to wolf one down in favor of saving them to share with my mom and Prim. Even with our situation so markedly improved, cheese buns, warm and fresh, no less, were an extravagant treat. I set them on the counter and turned back to Peeta. He was glancing around the living area and small kitchen. I felt my embarrassment flare again and asked coolly, “So what did you want?”

His eyes flickered to me, like he wasn’t ready to stop mentally touring my small, shabby house. I had never been so acutely aware of the scuffed floor, the worn furniture, the threadbare blanket thrown over the tear in the arm of the couch. “I wanted to talk to you, to apologize, for the other night.” 

“Why?” I asked flatly. My recollection was a little fuzzy, but I seemed to recall him enjoying himself. Though if my recent track record was anything to go by, I had absolutely no idea what boys thought, or what they wanted. “I thought you liked it.”

“Oh, I did. Other than the part where your incredibly intimidating friend,” his voice edged up in a question, before trudging on, “dragged you away while looking like he wanted to kill me. That part sucked.”

“Agreed.” It was amazing to have him be so clear with his feelings.

“You honestly have no idea how long I’ve wanted to talk to you. Kissing you was one of my wildest dreams. Having you kiss me back...boy,” he blushed and shook his head like he was trying to clear it, “but what happened was more than I could have dreamed of. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced that it happened; I feel like my brain sort of short circuited at some point.” He was grinning at me and I felt myself smiling back. Gale had been right: Peeta did like me. 

The memory of Gale telling me to promise to never let him fall in love with me, coupled with him pushing me away this afternoon, almost knocked the wind out of me. He honestly saw me as nothing but his hunting partner; some little girl, not someone he could actually be with. The defiance that blazed through me made me need to prove him wrong. I needed some practice and Peeta was my only practical option. “I need your help,” I blurted out.

“Anything,” he responded with eyes wide.

I closed my eyes and blurted out, “I want to give you a blow job. I need to learn how to do it.” 

As mortifying as it was to voice this, it was the only option I could I see. He had already met me more than halfway with his confession, and while I couldn’t return his feelings entirely, maybe we could help each other out.

He looked at me incredulously, then glanced around anxiously. “I’m sorry… I thought you just offered to blow me.”

“Look, I need the practice. You’ve already admitted that I don’t repulse you. We could do each other a favor.” I explained. Before he could respond, I walked up to him. He looked to be in shock and I realized that he wasn’t going to make any kind of move. If I wanted this to happen, I was going to have to make it happen. I had already done the hardest part, I reasoned. Bringing it up was utterly humiliating, but this was definitely a skill I needed. And strangely, the thought of doing it with Peeta wasn’t scary. I just had to act like a hunter, I reasoned, which wasn’t so hard since Peeta definitely looked like prey.

I couldn’t reach his lips without him tipping his head down, and he was still looking like he was caught in some sort of trap, so I placed my hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him backwards until his knees hit the couch and he tumbled back onto it. As he braced himself with this hands, I climbed onto his lap and pressed my lips to his, never breaking eye contact. After several seconds, his eyes fluttered closed and he returned the kiss. I adjusted my position so I was straddling his lap and he groaned in response, a sound which was both powerfully arousing and utterly empowering. Despite my inexperience, I was definitely doing something right. 

As we kissed, I licked along his upper lip and as he gasped in response, I let my tongue slide into his mouth. He groaned again and I pulled back, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. As my lips registered his racing pulse, I paused and licked at his pulse point. He grabbed my ass and slid me forward until I was pressed against the length of his cock. It was my turn to moan, shocked at how good it felt. We stared into each other’s faces, mouths parted, eyes glassy, as I started to grind myself against him. It felt impossibly good, even through our pants. I quickly realized that if I didn’t stay focused, my own arousal was going to distract me from the task at hand, or rather, mouth.

I slid back and dropped to my knees on to the floor in one solid movement. I nestled myself between his legs and ran my hands up his thighs. Under my hands I could feel the taut muscles. Peeta looked down at me with an incredible combination of fear and want. All of a sudden, this wasn’t about Gale. I wanted to give this to Peeta. I wanted to make him feel good. I pushed up the hem of his shirt to expose the button of his pants, but it slid back down, obscuring my access. 

“Off,” I directed, pushing the shirt further up his torso, exposing the pink and gold skin of his stomach. His body was so much thicker and fairer than Gale’s. Where Gale was all lean sinew and muscle under tight brown skin, Peeta was soft pink and firm and warm. His chest and belly were dusted with fine golden hairs that fanned out around his nipples and collected into a tantalizing trail that led down his stomach, under his belly button and into his boxers. I traced it with my eyes and let my fingers dip below the elastic of his waistband. He pushed his hips forward, thrusting to the edge of the couch.

“Katniss,” he croaked out, looking torn.

“These too,” I responded, ignoring his trepidation and pulling at his pants. He let out a shaky exhale, but lifted his hips so I could drag the coarse fabric down his legs, allowing his dick to spring free. His erect cock bounced up and slapped against his stomach. I smiled, glancing up at him, catching his deepening blush, which further emboldened me. Taking a deep breath, I took hold of the base of his cock before tentatively licking the bead of moisture collected at the tip. He grunted, and as I looked up I watched his eyes roll back. I clenched my thighs, feeling a throb of lust course through me as I licked my way up the length of him. 

“I...ungh, Katniss,” he moaned, clenching his fists into the fabric of the couch. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to fit the girth of him into my mouth, but as I slid my lips around the head and worked my way down, I was able to take more of him into my mouth with each stroke. I was just finding a rhythm and experimenting with swirling my tongue when Peeta gasped and thrust his hips forward, pushing my head away. He just got his hand between my face and the head of his cock as he came with a deep groan. I watched in fascination as the spurts of creamy liquid shot out in time with the clenching of his stomach muscles. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry… I should have warned you. It, uh, happened too fast.” He looked utterly mortified.

“I liked it,” I replied, grinning up at him. We both started to laugh and I felt like I had done something significant. In fact, I kinda wanted to do it again. 

He stopped laughing and ran his hand down my braid. “I can’t believe that just happened, that this is happening.” He looked so happy that I hated how quickly my face fell. I just stood up and grabbed a small cloth from the kitchen table, tossing it to him.  
“You should probably go. My mom and sister will be back any time.” I kept my back to him as he righted his clothes. 

“Oh,” he looked confused, “Um, wait, I… we didn’t really get a chance to talk.”

“I’m not really supposed to have people here while my mom is out, so you should really go,” I lied. I wasn’t sure why I was so anxious to get rid of him, but I couldn’t seem to think with him looking at me so expectantly.

“I wouldn’t want to upset your mom or get you in trouble. Maybe I could take you out later? On a date?” His voice was rising at the end of each sentence and he looked kind of desperate. The discomfort rising in me made it hard to believe we had been so intimate just minutes before. 

“Maybe. I’ll stop by the bakery tomorrow morning if I have a trade.” 

He looked down and nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. I’ll look forward to it.” He smiled bleakly and took the few steps towards the door. 

“Ah, thanks for the cheese buns,” and for letting me experiment with your body, I added silently. I really was grateful that he’d let me practice on him. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d thought and was actually pretty fun.  
And his smile spread up to his eyes as he said, “I really hope you enjoy them. I thought of you the whole time I made them. I always do.” And with that, he walked out the door.

xxxxx

It was early evening and I was just setting the stew to simmer when Prim and my mom returned home. They both looked tired and drained, but there was something else in the pinch of my mother’s brow. She dropped her satchel onto the kitchen table then collapsed into a chair. 

“Have you seen Gale today?” she asked.

“Um, this morning,” I responded, turning away as I felt the embarrassed flush spreading up my face in recollection of the rough bark against my chest as his hand slid into my pants. She couldn’t actually know anything about it, I reasoned, but still couldn’t force myself to meet her eyes. 

“Aspen Blythe is pregnant.” She sighed loudly, hopefully loudly enough to obscure the gasp of shock that slipped from me as I leaned against the counter for support. “Everyone is saying it’s Gale’s. I was hoping you might know something before I visited Hazelle.” She glanced over at me when I didn’t answer, and I rubbed my hand over my face tiredly trying to wipe the shock from it.

“Nope. He didn’t say anything.” I walked towards the bedroom. “I’m actually really tired so I’m going to turn in.” 

“Don’t you want to go to the Hawthornes with us? To show your support for Gale?” She sounded genuinely surprised. 

“I’ll talk to him later. I’m just too tired.” I knew it was a chicken-shit move, that despite what was or wasn’t going on with us, Gale would need all the support he could get. A child born out of wedlock was technically illegal in the districts. So, of course, was abortion. This generally meant that the pregnant couple was forced to marry. Besides being another mouth to feed, an unplanned baby was a social stigma and generally changed the trajectory of the unlucky couple’s lives. So this was it. Gale had made a mess of things. Unless Aspen was willing to try to have my mom help her end the pregnancy, and really, why would she, when she had Gale within her reach? He would have to marry her. I wept as quietly as my bitter tears would allow and was drifting off to sleep when I heard the front door close. 

xxxxx

Very early the next morning, I skipped the snares and avoided the oak tree. I hunted on the outskirts of our usual area, listening carefully for any signs of Gale’s presence. I just needed to gather some plants and bring home a small animal or two. I had three squirrels and all of the greens I could fit in my bag as I scooted back under the fence, greatly relieved that I had made it through the morning encounter-free. I had absolutely no idea what to say to Gale yet. I knew I needed to be there for him, but I was still too angry and confused. I couldn’t believe he had let this happen. I couldn’t believe he would be so careless. It wasn’t like him, not the Gale I knew, who despite his passionate rants against our repressive laws and the Capitol that profited from our repression, he was generally law-abiding and cautious. He was responsible for his family and knew intimately what would happen if he wasn’t there to provide for them. I couldn’t believe that he would jeopardize his family’s futures for a few measly minutes of pleasure with Aspen Blythe.

I was almost surprised to find myself at the alley entrance to the bakery. It was only as I stood there staring at the door that I realized this had been my plan all along. I wanted to see Peeta, to feel the warmth and kindness of him near me. I felt that I would be able to untangle my feelings of hurt and anger in the orbit of his tenderness. Shocked by these feelings, I had started to turn away from the door when Mr. Mellark appeared in the doorway. 

“I thought I heard something out here.” He smiled down at me. “Come in. I wasn’t sure you were going to grace us with your squirrels today, so you’ll have to excuse me for a minute. The usual trade?”

I stepped over the threshold of the doorway into the warmth of the kitchen. The smell of savory baking bread almost caused my eyes to roll back into my head. “Um, actually, Mr. Mellark, do you have any cheese buns?” I glanced up and caught that familiar blue gaze as Peeta stepped back from the gaping maw of the open oven, several loaves balanced on a long-handled wooden board. He set them down carefully on the counter before meeting me with a tentative look. “I have two fat squirrels to trade,” I added, glancing away from Peeta. I had been too upset last night to eat dinner or a cheese bun and hadn’t been able to get them out of my mind. That was the thing about not being desperate, besides the obvious not starving bit; it gave you choices. And today, I chose cheese buns. 

“Well, I think you’re in luck. How long on those cheese buns, Peet?“

“About five more minutes,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead and leaving a streak of flour in its wake. 

“Does four buns seem like a fair trade? “ Mr. Mellark addressed me. As I nodded, he said to Peeta, barely concealing a smile, “can you handle the ovens and finish up with Katniss while I head to the front? I’m expecting Mrs. Hoffstead to pick up her order any minute and should have everything ready for her.” 

Peeta nodded and mirrored his dad’s small smile. They didn’t seem to realize how ridiculously obvious their non-verbal communication was, but I found it kind of adorable.

As Mr. Mellark disappeared into the front of store, I set my game bag on the corner of the counter and began carefully unpacking the greens to get to the squirrels at the bottom. As I placed them on the counter, I felt the bulk of him slip behind me, not touching me, but undeniably there. He leaned forward, the warmth of him bridging the space between our bodies. I started to turn towards him but he stopped me with his voice.

“Wait. I need to say something to you, and I need to do it before you touch me and I lose my ability to think.” His voice was scarcely more than a whisper spoken directly into my ear, sending shivers down my neck. “I don’t think I’ve made it clear that I want to be with you, Katniss.” His hands came down on the counter on either side of my hips, again not touching me, but framing me in with his body. “I’m not saying I haven’t enjoyed the time we’ve spent together recently. Getting to kiss you and touch you is what I’ve always dreamed of.” He dropped his head down and inhaled deeply against my hair. “But that isn’t all I want. I want to know you. I want us to be together.” He leaned slightly forward, brushing his lips against the back of my neck, causing me to gasp as a bolt of arousal shot through me, making my insides molten. I wanted to press myself against him, but he stepped away from me as the timer sounded. Donning thick mitts on his hands, he opened the inferno of the oven and pulled out a tray of golden buns. The aroma of savory goodness quickly filled the small kitchen. I found that I was still gripping the counter as he slid the bag of baked goods across the counter. 

“So, what do you say, can I take you out tonight?” His voice returned to its normal register and a sheepish grin spread across his face. 

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I guess you can.” I gathered up the rest of my haul and headed for the door. 

“I’ll be at your house at 7:00. As soon as I can finish everything up here. Don’t eat dinner, ok?” he called out as I nodded and slipped down the stairs, closing the door softly behind me. I was filled with a confounding shyness, composed of equal parts excitement and apprehension. Surely, this was a terrible idea. I didn’t date. Peeta and I had nothing in common and absolutely no possible future. It was a mistake for us to pretend otherwise. But with the future I had been imagining with Gale snuffed out, I longed for something good. And if I was honest with myself, I wanted Peeta too. My body craved him. His warmth, his sweetness, the surprising flirty comments he made that always caught me off guard, but secretly thrilled me. I just had to figure out how make my brain stop shouting at me that he was an impossibility, a fairytale.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shocked, I looked directly into his pained eyes and reached for his hand, saying, “You saved my life. You saved our lives.” I hoped he could hear the unveiled gratitude in my voice. He slid his eyes up to mine and slowly turned my hand in his, kissing my palm. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down my spine. This simple act was the most intimate experience of my life and I felt my heart clench almost painfully in response. It eclipsed the intensity of any of my recent sexual experiences. And I watched in wonder as the last rays of sunlight made his hair glow golden and his eyes darken to a twilight blue. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Everlark first date, just a little late for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Continued and endless gratitude to Court81981 for her unparalleled beta skills, incredible advice, and overall wonderfulness.

Instead of heading home, I found myself returning to the woods. I had several hours until 7:00 and I couldn’t imagine being indoors. I headed for the small pond about an hour’s walk away that drained from the lake in which my father had taught me to swim. The rains had caused the lake to jump its banks this spring and I had been meaning to investigate if the lake trout had washed down into the lower pond. 

Several hours later, with my pants rolled up to my thighs and mud squishing through my bare toes, I was tying a line of six pan-sized trout together and stuffing my make-shift net full of the gritty, fleshy katniss roots I had harvested. I was so caught up in my daydream of the lunch I would concoct that I didn’t hear Gale until he was standing a few feet away from me.

“It’s not mine, you know,” he said by way of greeting. His face was strangely blank, but his voice was clear and strong. 

“Oh, really. How can you possibly know that?” I snap, surprised at how instantaneously my mind had switched from pan-fried trout and katniss roots to white-hot fury.

Gale continued to stare at me levelly. “Because I’ve never had sex. Not with Aspen, not with anyone.” 

“But I saw you. I saw you with Eva Fairbrook.” I looked down, mortified equally by the recollection and the admission that I had seen them. 

“Oh, I’ve done my fair share of screwing around. But never the kind of sex that can get a girl pregnant.” I must have made an incredulous sound because he continued, “Come on, Katniss, you know me. I’m not that stupid.”

And it was true. I did know him. I could see in the hardness of the lines around his eyes that he was telling the truth. This was another thing he had denied himself. We knew deprivation, Gale and I, and while he had a found ways to steal a little pleasure along the way, he had never allowed himself to be careless. Had never allowed himself that kind of indulgence.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, feeling the anger drain out of me into the cool mud at my feet.

“I don’t know.” He sounded so old and weary, I wanted to go to him, comfort him, but that wasn’t our way. “Aspen isn’t talking and won’t fess up to who the father is. I can’t marry her; that was never my intention, but I can’t really turn my back on her either.” He ran his large hand over his face and sat down hard on the ground, making us more or less eye level. 

“I didn’t think we’d have to have this conversation for a couple more years. I wanted to get through your last two reapings and see where our families were at before we talked about our future. I figured I could sow my oats, get girls out of my system while you grew up, and by the time you were ready to think about boys, I’d be ready to marry you.” 

Marriage. That had never been and still wasn’t part of my plan. Since I knew that I didn’t want children, I had never considered that marriage would figure into my future. I assumed with his constant railing against our political system, Gale would consider a child just another emblem of how the Capital controlled his life and his freedom. I couldn’t imagine him wanting to bring a life into our world of scarcity and uncertainty, where the odds were seldom in our favor. But we could still have each other.

“But then I ruined everything by falling for you ahead of schedule.” I meant for it to come out scathing and sarcastic, but I just sounded small and defeated. 

“Ah, I dunno, Catnip, the other night it seemed like you’ve got some oats to sow too. Can’t say I really saw that coming.” He glanced up through his lashes, looking tragically beautiful with his dark fringed, gray eyes, ruddy cheeks and full lips just quirking up into a teasing half smile.

I waded out of the shallow water and plopped down beside him, wiggling the mud between my toes. I dragged the net closer and began dividing up the roots into two piles. I was as close to him as I could get without touching and I breathed in his familiar scent of clean sweat, wood smoke and something distinctly foresty. I wondered if I smelled the same, if we really were the matching bookends that people often teased us for being. This was the closest I could get to an apology and the way he lightly bumped my shoulder with his made it clear that he knew this and accepted it. 

“So, what happens now?” I persisted. He shrugged and started stripping the leaves from one of the tubers in his pile. 

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and get reaped?” I proposed dryly, picking up my own fleshy root.

He shot me a look. “Not funny.” But he smiled anyway. “I should really get back. I don’t want Vick and Rory to have to hear any more snide comments from our lovely neighbors.” 

I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, but the mention of chatty neighbors reminded me that I should, so I blurted out, “Just so you know, I’m going out with Peeta tonight.”

“What the fuck, Katniss.” He was halfway standing and towered over me for a moment, making me flinch. “What can you possibly think is going to come of that? Are you so horny that you’re willing to lead him on? Do you need me to get you off again so you can think straight?” I couldn’t believe how angry he was and felt my anger flare in response.

“Screw you, Gale!” I smacked him in the chest with the armful of wet roots. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t have to know exactly what they’re doing.”

He stared straight up into the sky before sucking in a deep breath through his nose and shooting me a sharp look. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t finger me as the father if you end up pregnant.” 

I stared after him as he stomped off, not believing that he had actually said that to me. I was reeling from the dizzying events of the past week, how quickly things had turned between us. Gale and I had always been made of the same fiery temper, but we very rarely directed the resulting flames at each other. I was shaking as I gathered up the food I had gathered along with my hunting bag and made my way back home. 

xxxxx

Gone were the excited flutters of apprehension and excitement of this morning, replaced by what could only be described as dread for my impending first date. Gale had managed to suck everything good out of it. I had almost detoured back by the bakery to tell Peeta not to come, but I was just too tired and angry to make the effort. Every time I considered getting myself up and getting ready, even the simple task of deciding what to wear (there weren’t that many choices), felt depressing and impossible. I was planning to hide out in the backyard and pretend I wasn’t home when he came by to get me. Since my mom and Prim were out tending to another calamity, I was fairly certain I could pull it off. 

I was perched on an overturned crate, contemplatively feeding Lady leftover greens, when my head snapped up at the sound of a gasp. Peeta was standing at our back fence looking every bit as shocked to see me as I was him. 

“Sorry. Sorry! I swear I wasn’t spying on you, I just needed a quiet minute before I knocked…” he stammered, averting his eyes like he had caught me completely naked. I glanced down and realized that naked might be preferable. I hadn’t cleaned up at all and with my feet propped up on Lady’s pen, my muddy feet and calves were clearly visible under my equally muddy rolled-up pants. My braid probably had as much hair out of it as in, if the sweaty strands sticking to my face and neck were any indication. If my disheveled appearance didn’t so perfectly match my mood, I would have been horrified to be caught like this. As it was, I could barely muster an excuse. I was annoyed that he had foiled my avoidance plan, but this would work too. There was no way he’d want to spend time with someone that looked and smelled this much like Haymitch Abernathy on day three of a bender. 

“Sorry, I should have come by to tell you I couldn’t make it tonight,” I responded listlessly.

“Are you sick?” he asked, looking concerned.

“Sure.”

He took a step forward, reaching his hand over the low fence that delineated our postage stamp of a backyard and I saw the small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. “What’s the matter, Katniss? Is this about Gale? I heard about Aspen Blythe.” He had the decency to look down. 

“You should just go, Peeta. This isn’t going to work out.” I glanced back as Lady nibbled my fingers, all of the greens gone.

He looked truly alarmed. “What’s not going to work out? Our date?” I took in for the first time his pressed, light yellow dress shirt over a clean, white undershirt. I couldn’t see his lower half, but I assumed even his shoes were shined. 

I scoffed, gesturing down at my appearance. “Yeah, for starters, our date.” 

He looked to either side before leaning into the yard to set the flowers down on the edge of Lady’s pen and a woven basket on the ground just inside the fence, then he gracefully hopped over. I was right about the shoes, which were now covered in the coal dust and dirt that blanketed the small enclosure, not the mention the rest of the Seam. I was too apathetic to muster up much embarrassment over the state of our yard. 

“Peeta,” I sighed, and he cut me off by holding up his hand and pulling up another crate to sit down next to me.

“Sorry,” he said, lowering his hand, “but I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Luckily, I brought a portable date, so if you’re not interested in going out, we’ll do it right here.” He leaned over and dragged the basket over to us. He glanced up to retrieve the flowers and found that Lady had already helped herself to them. “You Everdeen ladies are a tough crowd.” He gave me an exaggerated grimace before breaking into a completely disarming grin. I couldn’t help the smile that turned up the edges of my mouth.

“Seriously, Peeta, just cut your losses and go home.” I felt completely wrung out and had absolutely nothing to offer him, least of all good company.

He slid the basket below my propped up feet. “Aren’t you even a little curious about what’s in the basket, Katniss?” he asked teasingly, blue eyes wide as he leaned in and lightly bumped my shoulder. I was immediately aware of the stinky, dried mud that coated my lower extremities and the layer of stale sweat that coated the rest of me. But a second later I became aware of the unbelievably delicious smell emanating from said basket.

“Maybe a little,” I said grudgingly, the small smile still playing on my lips. As I reached for the woven flap covering the basket, he playfully batted my hand away. “Alright, Mellark, you win. Give me five minutes.”

“Take as much time as you want,” he beamed at me. “I might even save you a bite or two.” 

Shooting him an accusatory look over my shoulder, I hustled into the house. I didn’t have the time or materials for a full bath, which occurred in the outdoor tub during warm weather, but I filled the small bathroom sink and with a washcloth, washed myself in sections as best I could. I ended up sitting on the edge of this sink with my feet dangling in to get the grit out from between my toes. Once I was passably clean and confident that I didn’t smell too bad, I dressed quickly in a pair of my school pants and my favorite gray tunic. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt comfortable, like me. Despite knowing that Peeta was teasing me about eating whatever delicacy he had brought without me, I forwent socks in favor of getting back out there quickly, slipping my bare feet into my unlaced boots.

As I stepped out the back door, I was amazed to see the transformation. Peeta had laid out a pretty, dark blue cloth on the ground and set the crates on their sides next to the contents of the basket. There were two golden buns and a jar of preserved meat and some sort of beautiful tart with an elaborate crust covered in katniss flower-shaped cut outs. It smelled like nothing I have ever experienced, something perfumy-sweet and intoxicating. I leaned into smell it and sighed, “What is that?”

“That is dessert,” he stated matter of factly, “and we’re saving that for last so you don’t kick me out before I get a decent chance at this date.”

I blushed slightly at the teasing accusation and said, “Then quick, hand me that jar.” 

He laughed, a wonderful, warm sound, and sliced open a bun adding a bit of the meat spread and several thick slices of red tomato. “I hope you haven’t gotten sick of cheese buns yet,” he said a bit sheepishly, “They go really well with the potted venison.” He handed me a roll.

“As if that were possible,” I chided. I couldn’t help the small moan of pleasure that escaped me as I bit into the sandwich. The cheesy bread mixed with the earthy meat and zesty tomatoes; it was incredible. “So good,” I mumbled around with a full mouth. When I looked up, he was staring at me with a strange, glassy-eyed look on his pinkened face. He cleared his throat and took a bite of his own sandwich. He chewed slowly then said, “We both contributed something to this meal. The tomatoes are from our garden and the venison,” he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as if a Peacekeeper could be lurking nearby, “I believe you caught last fall.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, feeling strangely proud that my buck was part of this delicious spread. “How did you preserve it like this?” I was truly curious. This new situation of having more food than we needed at one time had led to the conundrum of preservation. There were a couple of recipe books in the library at school, but none of them focused on preserving foods and most contained ingredients we’d never heard of. We had figured out stewing and canning fruit and Hazelle had built a drying rack in their yard, but it had to be moved indoors every evening. The resulting dried meat was edible when stewed, but not great on its own. Salting was also an option, but only when you could get enough salt. I had cleaned and salted the trout I had caught today with all of our salt stores since my mom and Prim were out and I hadn’t had an appetite when I’d gotten home. 

“My dad has some old family recipe books. They’re mostly about baking, but there’s one that focuses on preserves. We put up as much of our garden as possible since my mom says that’s what keeps us from getting sick in the winter.”

“Do you think there is any way I could read some of those recipes?” I looked away feeling foolish to having asked him for something more.

“Of course! My dad would be thrilled to show them to you. He loves to talk cooking of any kind. Maybe you can stay after trading one of these mornings.” He looked up at me hopefully and I instantly felt at ease, smiling at the thought of Mr. Mellark chatting happily about canning things. Peeta popped the last of his bun into his mouth and sucked the tip of one of his fingers, the soft sound drawing my gaze to his mouth, his lips. I felt my face heat as I fought the blatant urge to suck his lower lip into my mouth.

“He really likes you, Katniss. He always has,” he said gently, tipping his head down to catch my eye, mistaking my blush for embarrassment about the recipe request.   
“That’d be really great of him,” I said. “He’s always been so kind.”

“Yeah, the old Mellark kindness.” He puffed out his chest in mock boast, then quickly deflated as he added, “Well, four out of five of us, I guess.”

It was the most direct allusion he had made to his mother and her notorious reputation for the worst unkindnesses, particularly towards her youngest son. And it immediately took me back to that horrible day in the rain when I had witnessed her unkindness first hand as she beat Peeta for burning the bread. 

“I’ve never thanked you for that,” I whispered, “for the bread.”

“Oh, Katniss,” his voice was almost a groan, “I wish I had done more… had the courage to do so much more.”

Shocked, I looked directly into his pained eyes and reached for his hand, saying, “You saved my life. You saved our lives.” I hoped he could hear the unveiled gratitude in my voice. He slid his eyes up to mine and slowly turned my hand in his, kissing the inside of my palm. The warmth of his lips sent a shiver down my spine. This simple act was the most intimate experience of my life and I felt my heart clench almost painfully in response. It eclipsed the intensity of any of my recent sexual experiences. And I watched in wonder as the last rays of sunlight made his hair glow golden and his eyes darken to a twilight blue. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Peeta set my hand down and grabbed a glass jar with a short candle inside. He lit it with a match and set it on the blanket.

I cleared my throat and said, “Now about that dessert…”

He chuckled and grabbed two forks from the basket. “Ah yes, so this unbelievably delicious thing is a plum pie. The Cartwrights have a plum tree and we were able to trade with them this year for a case of plums. I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid, but my dad let me make this special for tonight.” He couldn’t keep the pride from sparkling in his candle-lit eyes. 

“Well, I hope you’re not too attached to it to eat it, because you know you’re not getting out of here with that,” I said, gesturing at it with my fork.

“I suppose you’ve earned it,” he smirked, and placing it on the cloth, plunged his fork through the crust of the pie. A blood-red filling erupted around the puncture and he lifted the dripping fork to my lips. 

It was the best thing I have ever tasted, sweet and tart and buttery, and I moaned loudly, “Oh my goodness, Peeta. More, please.” 

He looked pained and said, his voice tight, “If you keep moaning like that, I’m never going to stop feeding you.”

“Good,” I grinned, taking another forkful of pie, moaning exaggeratedly. 

He was beaming as he took a bite. “Mmm, that is good,” he nodded appreciatively. He barked out a surprised laugh as I knocked his fork away when he went in for another bite. In one fluid movement he had pinned me to the blanket, his body braced over mine on his forearms. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t gut you with my fork,” I said a little breathlessly.

“I can think of worse ways to go,” he answered, shifting his weight to my side and brushing his thumb below my lip before sucking it into his mouth with a cheerful, “Yum.” He reached over to the half eaten pie and dipped his finger into the sticky, red filling then dragged it along the seam of my lips. Our tongues met on my lower lip and sensation of him and the taste of the plums made all coherent thought impossible. I reached my hand down and began to slip it under his shirt, but he caught it and pinned it over my head. 

“Absolutely not,” he chuckled, “I lose all semblance of thought and control the minute you touch me and the next thing I know you’re pushing me away. I’ve been waiting for this date since we were five and you’re keeping your hands to yourself or I’ll be forced to tie you up.”

The thought of Peeta tying me up was both terrifying and electrifying. I pulled against where he was loosely grasping my wrist and leaned up towards him. He tightened his hold and pulled back, “I’m serious, Katniss.” He grinned and I collapsed back against the blanket, pouting slightly.

He laughed softly and leaned in to brush his lips lightly against mine. “Don’t pout, it drives me crazy.” He kept holding my wrists and kissed me softly for what felt like an eternity. I kept trying to maneuver my body to get the upper hand—slid my calf over his leg, pushed my pelvis up to meet his—but he was able to anticipate each move and subtly shifted away from me each time while never breaking the kiss. Before long, I was drenched in arousal and desperate for more. I was about to blurt out my frustration when he rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard. 

“Katniss, you have no idea what you do to me.” His voice was gravely and rough and perfect. He gave me a soft peck and sat up, running his hand through his tousled hair. Wait, what? He twisted and handed me what remained of the plum pie. “Can I use your bathroom?” he asked, turning away from me as he stood, but he was still unable to hide the prominent bulge in his pants. 

I nodded, looking down at the pie, utterly confused about why we were stopping, what had changed. When he emerged a few minutes later, he looked a little shy, but basically reconstituted into his usual, lovely self. He sat down beside me and packed the remaining items he’d brought into the basket. I was still clutching the partially eaten pie. He took it from my hands and went to place it up on the edge of Lady’s pen, then thought better of it and perched it on top of the basket. He held both my hands as he angled his head low to meet my eyes. 

“Katniss, this was the best night of my life.” He grabbed my chin as I looked away, still feeling rejected. “I honestly didn’t know it was possible to feel this happy. I want to you understand how much I want this. And that I’ll wait as long as you need me to until you figure out if it’s what you want too.” He planted a firm kiss on my lips, then my forehead. He stood up, picked up the basket, and placed the pie back into my hands. “If I’d known this was going to be a threesome, I would have brought another pie.” Grinning, he doffed an imaginary hat to Lady, who bleated at him softly, before he climbed back over the back fence. 

“Until we meet again, Ms. Everdeen, which can’t be soon enough.” He bowed and walked away into the gathering darkness, whistling softly and leaving me bobbing a potent stew of emotions, most prominent of which was a fervent wish that he’d come back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everlark spending the day together in the bakery kitchen. Always one of my favorite things to imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued and endless gratitude to Court81981 for her breathtaking beta skills.

Gale was nowhere to be seen the following morning, but the rabbits were out in full force. I had six before long, and took an extra half-hour to find a decently-sized squirrel as a fair trade for the baker. 

At the mere thought of seeing Peeta this morning, I felt a warm little flip in my belly. This both surprised and annoyed me, since that particular response had been reserved for Gale-related activities, such as a joking groan at one of my terrible jokes that caused his eyes to smile, my eyes drawn to a taut bicep as he lifted his shirt arm to absently scratch at a bug bite or a glimpse of his tight, tan lower stomach as he hung from a branch attaching a high snare line.

I suddenly wondered if my attraction to Gale was based entirely on glimpses of parts of him that I had been previously denied, whereas Peeta denied me nothing. He offered himself like an open, grinning book. A book about sunshine and rainbows and picnic dinners in my own shabby backyard, a book I would have previously scoffed at, but secretly wanted for Prim. Was Peeta the stuff of goodness that Prim deserved? Was that not for me? Why, because I was too ruined for such goodness? But Peeta hadn’t been brought up on sunshine and rainbows either; the frequent welts and bruises and occasional limps throughout the years proved that. And there was a steadiness to him, an underlying current of something strong and defiant that he had wrapped in kindness and easy smiles, but that had been forged in a crucible of deprivation, just like mine. While my meager stores of kindness were strictly rationed, almost exclusively for Prim, Peeta seemed to have endless stores, and when he ran low, he gritted his teeth and made more. 

Maybe this was the difference of having one loving, functioning parent. As much as I loved Prim, and she took care of me in as many ways as she could, I was essentially on my own. And due to Hazelle being stretched so thin with his younger siblings, so was Gale. And our vacuums of hurt and loneliness had drawn us together and we had built something stable enough to stand on there. But when I was with Peeta, it felt like he filled my loneliness and wrapped me a warm hug, to boot.

The thought of that warm hug had me hurrying through my trades and arriving at the alley entrance to bakery before long. I leaned my back against the outside wall and set my down my game bag, still half filled with game. I smoothed my clothes, picked out the leaves and twigs, and quickly untangled and replaited my hair before softly knocking on the door.

Mid knock, Peeta pulled open the door, greeting me with eyes brimming with warmth and welcome. “Morning, Ms. Everdeen, lovely to see you this fine morning. Have you something to trade?” He glanced over my shoulder and his smile widened.  


“Gracious, Peeta, let the poor girl in the door, would you?” called Mr. Mellark good naturedly from just inside the kitchen. 

Peeta moved aside and gestured for me to come in. I kept my head forward but glanced at him as I walked by, catching his deep inhale as I passed. I set my game bag on the central counter and looked up at Mr. Mellark. “I have a good-sized squirrel and several rabbits, if you’re interested.”

He rubbed his chin. “We’d love the squirrel as always.” He leaned in as he spoke quietly, “Peeta mentioned that you might be interested in potting some meat. If the rabbits aren’t spoken for, they preserve well. Would you be interested in a hands-on lesson in exchange for a jar of the finished product?”

I glanced over at Peeta, wondering what else of last night he may have shared with his father. I fought a blush as I nodded at Mr. Mellark. “That sounds good, sir.”

“Goodness, Katniss, how long have we known each other? Please, call me Levin.” He chuckled as he gestured back towards the door. “Let’s go ahead and clean the rabbits in the garden. Peeta has a special order cake he needs to focus on, so I think moving this outdoors will be a big help to his concentration.” 

Grabbing the game bag, I walked out to the small table in the back garden. I glanced towards the pigpen and garbage bins and willed myself not to fall into the despair of that particular memory. As I unpacked the rabbits, Mr. Mellark sharpened two knives and handed me one. We chatted companionably as I skinned and gutted the rabbits and passed them over to him to coarsely chop. I was a little nervous butchering out in the open where a Peacekeeper could happen by, but being with Mr. Mellark felt safe enough. He whistled through his teeth as I skinned the last rabbit in record time. “You’re amazing with that knife. No wonder Peeta appreciates you so much. You’re quite self-sufficient, aren’t you?”  
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t bake a cheese bun at gun point,” I shucked off the compliment. 

He laughed, and it was almost as warm a sound as sound as Peeta’s laugh. “And the same sense of self-deprecating humor as your mother, and that’s saying something. Next, we cook.” That comment threw me. My mother didn’t have a sense of humor, just tightly drawn skin and hollow eyes that fought to focus on her daughters. Or did she? A fleeting memory flashed through my mind of her making a joke, something about a drowned rat as I rode on my father’s shoulders, fighting for balance as he laughed heartily and I stared down into her beautiful, smiling, sun-washed face. Had that really happened? Had that mother existed?

“Coming?” Mr. Mellark was looking at me from the doorway. I followed him, wanting to hear more about this version of my mother, but not knowing how to ask. As we entered the bakery kitchen, Peeta was using a huge knife to cut a large cake in half horizontally. His blade stopped mid-cut as he glanced up and gave me a shy smile.

Mr. Mellark said, “Usually we do all of our non-bakery cooking in the kitchen upstairs, but since we need to simmer this rabbit for a couple of hours before we preserve it, I’ll need to keep an eye on it down here. Do you have any suitable jars that we can pack the meat into?” 

“My mother has jars. Do I have time to run home for them?” 

“Absolutely. I’ll get the meat in the simmer pot and add a few herbs as it cooks. That mother of yours wouldn’t happen to have any thyme, would she?” he asked, propping a large leather-bound recipe book up by the stove.

“If she doesn’t, I know of a patch… in the meadow?” I barely caught myself. I assumed Mr. Mellark knew where all of those squirrels came from, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak of it, particularly since it implicated Gale as well. 

“Great, then I’ll see you back here in about two hours,” he said, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He then walked into the storefront, leaving Peeta and me in the kitchen.

“If I had known it was this easy to lure you over here, I would have offered you the old Mellark family recipes ages ago. You have no idea the number of elaborate plans I dreamed up over the years to get your attention.” How did he make these declarations as if it cost him nothing?

“It would never have worked,” I teased. “I’ve never had enough leftover to preserve before.” I leaned against the counter he was working at, peering into the large pottery bowl in which he was slowly mixing. I couldn’t believe it; it was an entire bowl of fluffy, white frosting. I sucked my lip into my mouth, imagining the taste. Peeta ran his finger along the inside of bowl and held it up to my lips. I watched his eyes darken as I parted my lips and he brushed the frosting along my bottom lip. I kept eye contact with him as I took his finger into my mouth, sucking the frosting off. His breath hitched and his mouth dropped open as my eyes rolled back in response to the creamy sweetness hitting my tongue. 

“Oh my, I always wondered what that tasted like. It’s better than I could have imagined.” I mumbled around his finger as I scraped it with my bottom teeth and glanced up at him. He closed his eyes, looking pained and turned toward the counter, but not before I caught the tenting at the front of his apron. He was obviously embarrassed, but I was amazed. How could such a small gesture cause such a reaction? Would sucking on any other parts of his body, aside from the obvious, have that effect? What else could I coat in frosting and lick off? I felt a warmth creep through me as I remembered the weight and feel of his cock in my mouth. With sudden, sharp clarity, I wanted to do that again. We glanced at each other sideways, both of us pink and breathing a little hard. Before things could get any more charged, I grabbed my game bag and hurried out the door. 

Pausing in the alley, I took a few steadying breaths and savored the cool breeze on my flushed cheeks. It was as if my body had a mind of its own and I was less and less sure who or what was in control. I needed to re-arm my self-control before I entered the Mellark kitchen again. I headed for the Seam, full of resolve. 

At home, as I gathered the jars and herbs, I couldn’t help staring at my mom. 

“Katniss, what is it? Have I sprouted a second head?” she asked me, voice full of exasperation. She was kind of funny, and her eyes really weren’t that hollow anymore, unless you caught her staring out a window or into the fire at night. Her return to us had happened much more gradually than her sudden abdication after my father’s death. I guess I hadn’t fully noticed it.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, “it’s nothing.” 

“Say ‘hello’ to Levin for me. I really appreciate him taking the time to teach you. Do you think you can show me how the next time you get some extra game? Winter is a lot less frightening when you’ve got a stocked pantry.” I always forget that, at one time, she was a merchant. That for my father, she gave up a stocked pantry, a warm house, a whole family. I met her eyes before I closed the door softly behind me.

Upon re-entering the bakery, saliva flooded my mouth at the layered aromas: the cooking meat, the baking bread, and something exotic and spicy. I swallowed hard as Mr. Mellark herded me to the sink to wash up.

We stood elbow to elbow, pulling the rabbit meat from the bone and shredding it into a large bowl. Mr. Mellark chatted easily beside me as I watched Peeta work at the next counter. The white frosting had been colored a lovely soft orange, which had been spread evenly over the layers of the cake. Peeta was now piping intricate yellow and purple flowers onto the cake’s surface. They were beautiful and utterly realistic, little works of edible art. I watched his hands as he worked; they were so strong and steady as they deftly manipulated the pastry bag into these precise shapes. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his long, thick fingers, my resolve not to imagine all the ways I could get him hard crumbling fast.

Mr. Mellark broke my string of illicit thoughts by placing the sterilized jars on the work surface. I packed them with the seasoned, shredded meat, pressing and smoothing the surface and he followed along behind me, pouring a thin stream of clarified butter over the top, creating a half centimeter layer over the meat. “Once the butter hardens, it will create an air-tight seal and preserve the meat,” he explained, “and it is absolutely delicious spread on toast.” I surveyed the little army of apothecary jars filled with rabbit, and felt a calm settle deep within me. This was even better than the coin Gale and I had been able to save with the surplus we had collected. I’d take preserved food over money any day. 

I glanced over at Peeta and saw that he was beaming at me; I hadn’t even realized I was smiling. As I leaned over the counter to gather the jars into my arms, I watched as he glanced down the front of my shirt, licking his lips as he ogled the tops of my breasts. Our eyes met again and it was as if we were connected by an electric current. I had an urge to crawl across the counter and suck his glistening lip into my mouth. 

“What the hell is she doing in here?” Mrs. Mellark had pushed through the swinging door that divided the storefront from the kitchen and was staring at me like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. I took a step back. 

“Katniss had some extra rabbit and was willing to trade it for some cooking lessons,” Mr. Mellark explained, a hopeful rise to his voice as he stepped between us.

“So you’ll let any old Seam trash into my kitchen?” she hissed, eyes narrowing to slits. Peeta’s head was down and he was already gathering the jars into a wooden box, his previously rock-steady hands shaking slightly.

“What are you doing with those jars, Peeta?” Her voice was thin and cold.

“Those are Katniss’ share of the batch,” Mr. Mellark explained, looking pained, “Ours are on the counter.”

Her hand darted out so quickly, I didn’t see what had happened until Peeta gasped, her hand twisted into his hair. “So it isn’t bad enough that I’ll have to scrub the kitchen to rid it of her Seam filth, but you’ll let her rob us blind as well?” Mr. Mellark got between his wife and son as Peeta’s temple glanced off the edge of the counter, the handful of his golden hair still coiled in her fist. Mr. Mellark pinned her arms to her side as he called over his shoulder, “Peeta, go!”

It was as if I had been frozen in place as this horror show unfolded before me, but at Mr. Mellark’s warning, I whisked the box off the counter under one arm and grabbed Peeta’s hand in the other as I ran for the door. He looked slightly stunned as the tears brimming in his eyes began to leak out of the corners. I wanted to kill her.

We ran until we reached the square, jars clinking dangerously as we slowed to a walk, Peeta’s hand still grasped tightly in mine. I pulled him into an alley and set the box down as I caught my breath. I pushed him against the wall and took Peeta’s chin in my hand, turning his face so I could see the red welt blooming on his right temple. He was still shaking slightly and wouldn’t meet my eyes, and he pulled his chin away, hiding the side of his face in shadow. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry she said those things. I’m sorry you heard them.” Truth be told, I was shocked by what she’d said. Not that I had never heard a merchant mutter “Seam trash” as I walked by, but I had never been looked at with such naked disgust. Nor had I ever seen a parent, Seam or merchant, inflict such violence on their own child.

As I tried to meet Peeta’s eyes and he kept them trained to the wall, I gathered as much of him as I could into my arms and held him fiercely with all of the strength I had. He drew a stuttering breath before collapsing into my arms and pressing his face into my neck. I don’t think I had felt closer to anyone since my dad died. I wanted to hold him, soothe him, protect him.

As he took deep, gasping breaths against my neck, I pulled away slightly, placing feather-light kisses along his bruised temple, across his forehead, running my hands down his sweat-dampened neck. I lifted his face and softly kissed along his tear-tracked cheeks to his lips. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, feeling his swollen scalp where she had nearly pulled his hair out, swallowing his soft gasp of pain with my kisses. 

“Oh, Katniss, please…” he whimpered. My heart clenched and my stomach tightened. I didn’t know what he was asking for, but I wanted to give him anything, anything that would ease his pain. I ran my tongue along his slightly parted lips and he moaned, sending a bolt of desire coursing through me. He slid down the rough wall as if he lacked the strength to stand and I followed him, straddling him, pressing myself as close to him as possible. I couldn’t get close enough. 

Through the haze of longing, I heard her small voice, though in my current half-crazed state it took a minute to place it. “Have you seen Katniss? Mr. Mellark said they left the bakery a while ago.” I couldn’t make out the response to Prim’s inquiry. 

I pushed away from Peeta, taking a deep gasping breath as I stared towards the mouth of the alley. I cradled his face in my palm, swiping my thumb across his lips. “It’s Prim. I need to go,” I told him softly. 

He covered my hand with his and kissed my palm, meeting my eyes as he nodded. “Go.”

I scooped up the box and hurried back into the square. When Prim saw me, she rushed over, looking panicked. “Cray has Gale and he’s threatening to lock him up. Cray is the father of Aspen’s baby and we need you to convince her to help Gale.” It all came out in a whispered torrent. 

“Oh no,” I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea washing over me. Cray was infamous for his cruelty. He indiscriminately took advantage of desperate girls, paying for the use of their bodies and refusing to let them protect themselves in anyway. Considering that it was against the law for Peacekeepers to take a wife or have children, Cray went to extremes to ensure that his bastards weren’t born. More than one young girl had been sent on a train “to the Capitol” to have an abortion, but disappeared, never to return to District 12. This made it even more dangerous for one of Cray’s girls to admit to a pregnancy. Without a man willing to step up and marry her and claim her child as their own, she was at Cray’s mercy. Now that Gale had been called out as the father of Aspen’s child, Cray would force Gale to either marry her or be imprisoned to protect himself. 

I had no idea how I could possibly be of help in this. I didn’t know Aspen well and was less than persuasive under the best of circumstances. But I would do anything I had to to help Gale from certain imprisonment, likely punishment, and possible death. I shuddered as I ran behind Prim, clutching the box of jars. How had a day that had started off so wonderfully turned into this nightmare? This was just another example of the hell you endured when you weren’t in control of your own life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry it's taken me so long to update. I appreciate every one of you who have read this story. left kudos and commented. That said, some of the comments were tough to read and hurt my feelings enough that I needed to step away from this for a bit. I respect that everyone has an opinion and right to express themselves, I just ask that you think about how you would feel reading your comment if this was something you had written. Just a little "Golden Rule" check in here.
> 
> I certainly don't want to argue with anyone or invalidate their opinion, but I've read a number of comments about how unlikable this version of Katniss is and how dishonest she is being with Peeta. I would counter that canon Katniss is not always likeable. And that's one of the very things that makes her such an beautifully rendered character; you love her despite that she's not always loveable. She doesn't love Peeta at first, he wins her over with his kindness, his strength of character, his relentless adoration, his ability to see things but not accept them as they are and his dedication to change them. His love changes her. I don't see this story's version of Katniss as being dishonest; she isn't lying to anyone. She is a sixteen-year old girl who is working through her feelings for both Gale and Peeta, and finding her way to a healthy relationship through the course of the story. At least, that's what I'm aiming for. And I may have missed the mark, but please see the above request before telling me how much so :).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He stepped backwards off the porch and with a small wave turned and trudged down the road, taking the sun with him. I had to fight the impulse to call after him to wait, to bury myself in his arms until all of this went away. He seemed like the only island amidst this sea of bleakness. I thought of Gale and the hard, gray set of his eyes, the fury simmering behind them. I understood him, understood what he felt, but Gale exhausted me. I didn’t crave him like I craved Peeta. When had this happened? How could I need Peeta after so little time? I defined my life by what I could live without, each necessity winnowed down to the bare essential. I couldn’t afford to need him. With the bread clutched to my chest and my heart clenched tight like a fist, I walked back inside and closed the door behind me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry it has taken so long to update. I'm almost done with the next chapter and plan to post it quickly on the heels of this one. 
> 
> Eternal gratitude to Court and her ah-mazing beta skills. (And her saint-like tolerance for my egregious overuse of the adjective "glorious" to describe all things Peeta. Y'all know where I'm coming from, right?)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm appleblossomgirl0305 on Tumblr if you'd like to chat.

Once we arrived home, my mom sent me over to Aspen’s house, saying the girl refused to talk to her or Hazelle until Aspen first talked to me. I was perplexed at her request, but headed directly over there. 

Aspen answered the door almost immediately, saying nothing but gesturing for me to come in. Her face was blotchy and slightly swollen, but she wasn’t crying now. Her home was similar in size to ours, but while clean enough, there was nothing homey or welcoming about it. I abruptly remembered her small, pinched face in the rain the night of the mine accident; her mother had perished in the same accident that claimed my father. While my mother had quietly slipped into her despondent state, Aspen’s father had turned to the bottle. He had a reputation as an angry drunk and had only worked intermittently at best in the past several years. I hadn’t realized that things were dire enough for Aspen and her family for her to turn to Cray, but we Seam folk kept our problems close to the vest. I also better understood her interest in losing herself in Gale, even if wasn’t a long-term thing.

“I can only imagine what you think of me,” she said quietly, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.

“I don’t think anything,” I responded, eloquent as usual.

She took a shaky breath. “I know you and Gale are close. I know everyone thinks you’re together. Gale swore you weren’t or I never would have… spent time with him.”

“We aren’t. Together.” I had a crazy urge to try to explain the whole mess to her, but controlled myself and kept quiet.

She nodded and glanced up at me. “Still, I know you’re close.”

“Look, Aspen, I know this is a terrible situation and I’m here to do whatever I can to help Gale,” I said in a rush, adding belatedly, “and you. But my mom is the one you need to talk to. I don’t know what you think I can do.”

“I will. I’ll talk to her. I plan to take the herbs and get rid of this thing. I don’t know if that will be enough for Cray, but I will do whatever I can for Gale. None of this is his fault.” She looked so pale and hopeless as she stared at me, her hands twisting in her lap. “Here’s what I need from you. My dad is a wreck. He can’t take care of himself, let alone me and my little brother. I need to know that if I don’t make it through this next part, that you’ll promise my brother will be fed. At least until he can work.”

I stared at her. This wasn’t a small request. Another mouth to feed, particularly a teenage boy’s, wasn’t something to undertake lightly. I had enough trouble keeping my little family fed, and had watched Gale go hungry more times than I could count in an effort to feed his siblings. But I also knew what this request cost her and understood that this was the price of her cooperation, of Gale’s freedom.

“He’ll need to take tesserae. Gale and I will add whatever extra we can from hunting and foraging. I can’t promise much, but you have my word that I’ll do what I can for him.” I stared into her eyes so she could read my intent, but I was terrified of making such a promise and I was sure she could see it.

“Please,” her voice wavered and she cleared her throat, “just don’t let him starve.” The pain reflected in her eyes, which were a lighter shade of gray than mine, made me look away. Once again I silently thanked my dad for giving me the knowledge I needed to keep myself from this same fate. I could have easily been the one sitting here pregnant with Cray’s baby and begging a virtual stranger for Prim’s survival. A situation such as this always infuriated Gale, sent him into a rage about the system that created such inequities, but I could never get the distance for that. It was too easy for me to see myself trapped in each predicament and only strengthened my resolve to do whatever I had to to stay one step ahead of that fate for myself and, more importantly, for Prim. As much as I hated that Aspen had so unfairly implicated Gale in this mess, I understood her need to protect her brother before she risked her life to fix it. I nodded and she nodded back once before standing and following me back to my house.

My mother had all of the herbs assembled, and she started explaining the procedure to Aspen as soon as we were settled at the kitchen table.

“For a creature only the size of a hazelnut, it is extremely difficult to evict, even at this early stage,” my mother explained in her calm healer’s voice. “The herbs will induce bleeding that should cleanse your womb of the fetus, but it can be difficult to gauge the amount needed. Each woman’s body responds differently to the dosage. The cramping will be severe. It isn’t a pleasant experience. I’ll need to stay with you through the process to monitor you.”

“I understand. I’m ready.” Aspen took the concoction and drank it in one long swallow before laying her head on the table.

My mom pulled me aside and explained that it would take an hour or two before the cramping began and that we should all get some rest. She asked that I run over to the Hawthornes to let Hazelle know that Aspen was cooperating, and to be ready to negotiate with Cray once the ordeal was over.

It was a long and horrific night. Aspen suffered in silence as best she could as my mother and Prim tended to her, but her quiet, anguished moans were making me want to crawl out of my skin. As my mother had feared, Aspen’s malnourished state had complicated the procedure. The herbs my mother had used to staunch the bleeding were not as effective as she had hoped. By the time the first rays of sun were filtering through the window, Aspen’s face was as gray as the morning light.

Thankfully, my mother sent me out to hunt, with instructions that Aspen needed as much liver as I could bring. I would have loved to bring down a deer, but seeing as I was alone, I would have no way to carry it and there was also no way I could cut out a liver and leave the rest of the carcass. Instead, I was able to bag several rabbits and a wild turkey. The tom was large and promised to provide a good-sized liver, as well as broth to build back Aspen’s strength. Only her need kept my feet moving back towards our house. The thought of re-entering those walls was almost too much for me to take.

The ordeal wasn’t over. My mother sent me with Hazelle to Cray’s with the clay pot bearing the evidence that would hopefully earn Gale’s freedom. It was a gruesome task and despite my vast experience with butchering all manner of animals, carrying this tiny mass of tissue made my knees weak. Hazelle ran her hand along my arm and took the pot from me. She held my hand as we walked the muddy path.

“Thank you for your help, Katniss,” she said quietly. “He appreciates you.” She shook her head. “He loves you. He has for some time. I know this mess makes that hard to understand, but even if he hasn’t fully realized it yet, he thinks of you as his future.”

His future? My stomach churned with anxiety. It settled over me like an oppressively thick blanket. I had never wanted to be anyone’s future. I had been powerfully attracted to Gale in the last few months and had certainly been interested in messing around with him, but I wasn’t looking for a future with him. I actually wondered if some of my interest was a result of him being so emotionally unavailable. It was easy to lust after someone when you were wholly focused on his admittedly gorgeous body. But in light of my recent experiences with Peeta, the depth and quality of his attentions were almost impossible to compare to my relationship with Gale. I felt like Peeta had soaked into my pores, saturated me in a way that made thinking about anyone else seem wrong. 

I couldn’t meet her eyes as I replied, “Let’s just get him home.” The past day had stripped me of more than I could currently comprehend, but any romantic notions I had harbored were certainly gone. I couldn’t believe that just yesterday I was standing in the Mellark’s kitchen licking frosting off of Peeta’s finger. The thought made me wince. And then, I longed for it back in the next heartbeat. Life was brutish and short. I had heard that somewhere and the truth of it settled into my tired bones.

Somehow when we met with Cray he was in that magical window where his hangover was subsiding and he had just started to drink again. He accepted the evidence provided as proof enough of Aspen’s abortion, and agreed to release Gale under the threat that he would marry Aspen at some undisclosed future time. Hopefully it would prove an empty threat.

Gale was released from the holding cell with a deep gash above his left eye and a bruised jaw. He held his left side and limped slightly as we walked home. But the most alarming part was his silence. He had hugged his mother and nodded at me as we started home, but had yet to say anything.

Once we got to the Hawthornes’ home, I fetched my mother to check Gale’s injuries. He sat slumped in a kitchen chair, flanked by his brothers and with Posey wrapped around his lower left leg as my mom examined him. I looked away as she unbuttoned his shirt and felt his bruised ribs, ashamed that the sight of his bare chest had been a verdant hope of mine just days ago. His first words were to ask after Aspen, and my mother said we’d know more once she woke up. He nodded, eyes cast down at his lap, and thanked her for everything. I hovered near the Hawthornes’ kitchen door when my mother was finished, not sure if I should stay or follow my mother home. I told Gale to get some rest and that I’d come around later with some game. He nodded, but barely glanced at me. My heart ached for him, but I had nothing more than fresh meat to offer him.

Aspen was asleep on our couch. Both my mom and Prim had nearly collapsed from exhaustion, but I couldn’t sleep. I plucked the turkey and cleaned the rabbits and began to cook. The Reaping was only a couple days away. It was a dark ceiling hovering over our heads. I couldn’t believe that I had allowed myself to become distracted by boys. I said a silent prayer that we would all be spared and renewed my resolve to do anything and everything I could to keep my family alive and safe.

The knock was so soft that I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it. When I peeked through a crack in the door, Peeta was standing on my porch with a Mellark’s bag clutched loosely in his arms. I felt my heart lighten at the sight of him. Then my chest tightened with the knowledge that this was the last time I’d see him before everything changed. Part of me wanted to close the door and leave what needed to be said unsaid, to not see the hurt in those beautiful eyes that I would cause. How had this happened? How could I be in a position to hurt him? He had never been anything but kind to me. I had never wanted this, never wanted to be the keeper of someone else’s heart. If the last few weeks had taught me nothing else it was that I didn’t know my own heart well enough to be entrusted with someone else’s. I needed to end this before it got more out of hand. 

I slipped out the door and met him on the porch. The bruise on his temple had darkened the area below his eye, and he looked as tired as I felt. I had to clench my hand into a fist to stop myself from running my fingers along the purpled skin.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.” I replied, not wanting to look at him, but stealing a look anyway.

“How’s Prim? And Gale?” He sounded so concerned.

“She’s fine. She and my mom were up all night caring for Aspen… Gale’s home.” I let that hang in the air; I didn’t have the energy to explain it.

“I was worried about you when you didn’t come by to trade this morning. I brought you some bread… we never traded for the squirrel yesterday.” He held the bag out to me.

“Oh, thanks.” Right, the trade we never completed because his mother slammed his face into the counter while calling me trash. “Look, Peeta…”

“Please, Katniss, just take the bread.” He reached up and ran the frayed end of my braid between his fingers. “I know everything is really messed up right now. I know you must think my family is insane and that I’m pathetic. If I could take yesterday back, I would.” Then he tipped my chin up and looked at me, blue eyes unexpectedly fierce, “Except that I wouldn’t, because I got to spend it with you.”

How could he do that? How could he say such incredible things? How could he make my heart melt when it was just so full of anger and defeat? He was truly too good for me. I needed to let him go. I steeled myself and stepped away from him and it felt like I was fighting a magnetic force. “I can’t do this.”

“That’s just it, Katniss, you don’t have to do anything.” He looked so wistful and I longed to comfort him, but I forced myself to hold my ground. “Whenever you want me, I’ll be here.” There it was again: he was willing to take what little I had to give. But he deserved so much more. He deserved to thrive and I only knew how to starve. 

He stepped backwards off the porch and with a small wave turned and trudged down the road, taking the sun with him. I had to fight the impulse to call after him to wait, to bury myself in his arms until all of this went away. He seemed like the only island amidst this sea of bleakness. I thought of Gale and the hard, gray set of his eyes, the fury simmering behind them. I understood him, understood what he felt, but Gale exhausted me. I didn’t crave him like I craved Peeta. When had this happened? How could I need Peeta after so little time? I defined my life by what I could live without, each necessity winnowed down to the bare essential. I couldn’t afford to need him. With the bread clutched to my chest and my heart clenched tight like a fist, I walked back inside and closed the door behind me.

Xxxx

Aspen woke up and ate some broth. Her skin was gray, her eyes flat, but her body seemed resigned to live. And for a moment, I let myself question if that was such a victory. I had a vision of her as a marionette, President Snow pulling her strings as she hop-danced into the mines. 

The mines. My mind shot to Gale. We had been doing well enough the past few months to cautiously hope that he wouldn’t need to start in the mines right after the Reaping. As I lay in bed that night, for the first time, I really allowed myself to imagine him trudging into the lifts, the door rattling shut trapping him in as he descended down into the darkness, into our fathers’ tomb. I shuddered and sent a silent prayer into the night to protect him from that fate.

I was suddenly horrified at my behavior of the past few weeks. How could I have allowed myself to be distracted by romantic dalliances? I had work to do. Every day had to be spent preparing for the winter to come. Now that I had some understanding of preserving meat, this had to be our focus. If I could figure a way to borrow Mr. Mellark’s book, I would do it, but otherwise, Gale and I would just need to redouble our efforts at drying and canning as we could. We had two families to feed and my best friend to rescue from the mines.

As I re-framed Gale this way in my mind, I felt a small twinge of loss, but also an understanding that this was right. We needed each other, were tied to each other’s fate and survival, and romantic complications had only threatened our finely tuned friendship. He must have known this and I fought a blush in the darkness as I realized how insane I must have seemed as I threw myself at him against the oak tree. Now that I had some frame of comparison, I realized that it had been so difficult with Gale because we were so out of step, romantically speaking. And we were so in step in most things. I wanted that back. 

I started to make lists of things we needed: jars, tallow, salt. We wouldn’t be able to afford butter, but we could render fat and use that. It might not be “delightful on toast,” but it could get us through the winter.

My tired mind drifted to the Mellarks’ recipe book, propped against the flour-dusted counter top. Was the countertop still warm from Peeta’s hands? My mind reached for his radiant smile and crinkling blue, blue eyes. In an instant, I craved him. Physically craved him as my heart throbbed in my hollow chest. And I recognized it as the perilous thing it was. I remembered my mother’s vibrant love for my father and how after his death, all of the life had drained out of her eyes. The loss of my father had emptied her until all that was left was an encompassing blankness that stared past us as Prim and I cried and starved to death in front of her. I had to pull myself together and stop acting like a frivolous girl. I was a hunter, a trader, and Prim’s provider, and that had to be enough. I tried not to toss and turn, knowing it would jostle Prim, but my body seemed unable to find a comfortable position despite my exhaustion. As my mind slid back into the Mellarks’ kitchen, I felt my muscles relax and my mind still as it embraced the fantasy of sitting next to Peeta as he bent over the counter, undershirt clinging to his damp back, tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth as he frosted perfect icing flowers on a sunset orange cloud.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conflicted Katniss tries to re-focus and turn over a Peeta-free leaf. But finds it harder than she expected.
> 
> "As we walked away, I longed to offer Peeta a parting smile. But who was I kidding: I didn’t give parting smiles. It broke me not to be able to show him how much this hurt me too, but it had to be this way, for both our sakes. But I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance back and wishing it could be different."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! *peeks sheepishly around the corner*. I know it's been ages. I got seriously sidetracked by another project ("Holiday") which I've been writing for district12drabbles. The weekly prompt deadline has been motivating and captivated most of my writing time. I can't thank the lovely readers enough who have asked about this story (both here and on Tumblr). It is unbelievably inspiring to know someone is out there is looking forward to the next part of the story.
> 
> Continuing and endless gratitude to Court81981 for her beta magic. I am so thankful for every morsel of her precious time and attention.

I was up before dawn, and headed over to the Hawthornes’ house. Gale and I generally met beyond the fence to spare our families the early morning commotion, but our routine had been so disrupted I wasn’t sure he’d be there. I knocked softly then let myself in. I slipped quietly into the boys’ room. I was nearly bowled over by the masculine musk that permeated the room. Gale had a narrow bed to himself while Vic and Rory shared a slightly larger bed, sleeping head to toe, impossible to differentiate in the sparse dawn light. I crept past a foot with big toe sticking out of a holey sock, over to Gale’s bed situated just below the tiny window. In the early morning light, his face looked years younger and I was struck by the intimacy of seeing him asleep. The gash above his eye had scabbed over and the bruises shrouding the side of his face had darkened, but despite the wreckage, he was still handsome. I admonished myself, then realized that appreciation and desire weren't the same thing. I might not be able to stop myself from admiring him from time to time, but I could just acknowledge his beauty and know that it wasn’t for me. 

I grasped his shoulder and shook him lightly. He scrunched his eyes closed before cracking them open. He looked surprised then sleepily happy to see me.

“What are you doing here, Catnip?” he whispered, putting his hand up to rub his eyes before seeming to remember that his face was one big bruise.

“Let’s go,” I said quietly, but firmly.

“Not today,” he grimaced and tried to turn over. But I placed his hunting boots firmly on his chest. I scooped his hunting bag off the chair and whispered to him that I’d be waiting outside.

Several minutes later he staggered out, holding his side as he pulled a flannel shirt over his shoulder. He looked annoyed, but I just turned and started for the meadow. He waited a few beats then stalked after me.

Once we were beyond the fence, I retrieved our bows.

He glowered at me and asked petulantly, “So imprisonment and a beating don’t earn me a day off?”

“Please,” I stared at him evenly, “you’re fine. Buck up, because we need at least twelve rabbits and a couple of pheasants or a turkey.”

He looked at me curiously before breaking into a grin, “Ouch, that hurts. So you’re back in the saddle, huh, Catnip?” He tugged my braid lightly. “Did you say twelve rabbits? I think this calls for a good old-fashioned shoot off.”

I nodded, accepting the challenge and giving him a handicap of two rabbits. We set off towards the woods with a common goal. It felt good to be a team again.

xxxx

The friendly competition and a day of unchecked snares paid off. We had so much game by late morning that I had to tuck one rabbit carcass inside my coat, as our game bags were full to bursting. We had found a bramble of bush berries and our pockets were full with the delicate fruit. We couldn’t help laughing at each other as we both shuffled awkwardly trying not to crush our haul.

We made a few quick trades at the Hob, focusing on glassware in which to preserve, and headed home. I considered asking Gale if we could stop at the bakery to borrow the book, but realized it was best not to see Peeta. I needed to close that door firmly and seal it with my stubborn resolve, or I would crumble upon the sight of him.

Unfortunately, the universe didn’t support me in this endeavor. We ran into him a couple of blocks from the bakery as we neared the square.

“Mellark,” Gale said, tilting his head slightly.

“Hi, Gale. Katniss,” he replied. I longed to look up at him, see into his open face with my own eyes, but I forced my gaze to stay low. But this meant that I saw his hands, flour ringed around his cuticles and under his short nails, clenching and unclenching as he cleared his throat and asked, “Looks like it was a good morning?”

“Sorry, no squirrels to spare today. We’ll see if we can stop by tomorrow,” Gale stated flatly. 

As we walked away, I longed to offer Peeta a parting smile. But who was I kidding: I didn’t give parting smiles. It broke me not to be able to show him how much this hurt me too, but it had to be this way, for both our sakes. But I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance back and wishing it could be different.

The day was blissfully busy. We set up shop in the Hawthornes’ kitchen. Gale and Rory took their bedroom door off the hinges to use as an additional work surface. It paled in comparison to the Mellarks’ kitchen, but we were still able to process all of the game and preserve two-thirds of it. We used the last of the honeycomb with the berries and made a deep-purple preserve. By the time my mom, Prim, and Aspen joined us for dinner, we had a small army of jars and an ample meal as well. It felt so good and I was proud of us. I met Gale’s grin and returned it, feeling truly at ease with him for the first time in far too long.

Prim shyly handed over a loaf of rye bread, saying that Peeta had stopped by to see me earlier in the day.

“That’s weird. We didn’t trade with him today,” said Gale, eyeing the bread suspiciously.

“It’s from yesterday,” I answered, not meeting Prim’s questioning gaze. “I forgot to take it.”

Gale looked unconvinced, but thankfully let the matter drop. I felt Gale’s stare several times throughout the meal, but studiously avoided meeting his eyes. It didn’t matter; whatever he was curious about was over. But I couldn’t kick the feeling that he had no right to be curious. I found his silent scrutiny grating on me and I started to feel antsy to go. As we left the Hawthornes’, he caught my arm and wrapped me in an unexpected hug.

“Good day, Catnip. See you in the morning?”

I pulled away from his embrace, nodding. “Same time, same place, Hawthorne.”

As I put the still warm jars away in our make-shift pantry, I agonized over how to tell Peeta to stop: stop giving me things, stop coming by, stop caring for me. We had to return to the way we’d been before, since I couldn’t fathom adding any additional pain to his life, or at least having to witness the result of such. And it wasn't good for Peeta either. Him wanting something that could never be. Besides, he deserved someone better than me, he deserved someone as kind and wonderful as he was. And as much as I wanted to be those things, I wasn’t. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

I decided I would write him a note. Quick, clean, direct.

Not surprisingly, it turned out that I was a dreadful note writer. I kept it as simple as possible, telling him that I needed to focus on my family and not be distracted by any new friendships, that I was sorry and hoped that I would see him around. It was basically terrible, but the best I could do.

I waited until my mom and Prim had gone to bed, and slipped out into the moonlit night. Luckily, it was a sliver of crescent moon and I was able to sneak uneventfully into town, darting from side street to side street. It was so warm and humid that I felt as though I was swimming through the dense night.

When I reached the alley door to the bakery, I noticed a warm glow from the small window set in the door. I had to stand on the top step to see inside. The sight of Peeta, bent over the counter with a pencil in hand, working in the soft yellow glow of candlelight almost stole the breath from me. He was so unspeakably beautiful and everything about his countenance looked defeated and sad. The urge to rush through the door and wrap him in my arms was almost overwhelming.

I crouched down and took a deep breath. I slid the folded note under the door and stood to flee. But before I could straighten completely, the door was yanked inward and there he was staring down at me.

“Katniss, please look at me.” The raw anguish in his voice was almost more than I could take. “I know I messed up, that I’m weak, but please just look at me.” 

I couldn’t allow him to believe that I thought that of him. That he was in any way responsible for this. It just hurt too damn bad to explain to him that I was the weak one; that I was ticking time bomb of weakness waiting to detonate at the loss of him. And I would lose him. There was no conceivable reality where this worked out between us.

“Please, I won’t ever touch you again if you don’t want me to.” He ran his hand through his disheveled curls. “Just don’t leave me alone again.”

This gutted me, positively gutted me. I looked up into his tormented face and saw the naked need in his eyes. I recognized that look. Before I could form a conscious thought, I was practically climbing him to get to his lips. He collapsed against the side of the building as our mouths met in a bruising kiss. He spun us around and lifted me, wrapping his arms around my lower back. I was pressed between his body and the rough, cold stones, but all I could feel was his lips, tongue, teeth and the reckless need we shared. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once, but we were pressed so close together my reach was limited to his back. His glorious, broad, warm back that tapered down to his strong waist. I could feel the muscles shifting beneath my fingers as he moved against me. I slipped my hands under his shirt, running my fingertips up his sides, savoring his warm skin.

“Yes,” he hissed out pushed me against the stone wall so hard that the air left my lungs and my nails dug into his skin.

He stepped back, but still pressed me firmly against his body. Leaning his forehead against mine, he sighed a quick “sorry” against my lips, and I started to slide down his body as he loosened his grip. But that wouldn’t do at all, so I gripped his shoulders hard and wrapped my legs around his waist. He stared into my eyes, and seemed to see what he needed to. He grabbed my ass with one large hand and maneuvered us into the garden behind the house. The potting table that Mr. Mellark and I had skinned the rabbits on was pushed against the side of the house. It wasn’t visible from the bakery and was obscured from view from the second floor windows by the apple tree. The only light was from the flickering candle through the kitchen window. As I glanced back into Peeta’s face, his eyes were dark and ravenous.

“Katniss,” he whispered, and I could tell there was going to be more. I wouldn’t be able to say to his face what I had written in that letter, so I pressed two fingertips against his lips to silence him. Staring into his fathomless eyes, I leaned in and replaced my fingers with my lips. I wasn’t sure he was going to accept this, but let my eyes drift closed as I felt him return the kiss. I wanted him. I needed him. And I would deal with the consequences of that later. A small voice shouted a warning from deep inside my mind, but I silenced it by laying back against the table and pulling Peeta down on top of me. He braced his weight on his forearms, but I pulled against him with my strong legs, arching my lower back up off the wood of the table. He moaned and pushed his hips against me, seemingly content to abandon whatever he had been trying to say. I could feel the firm outline of his erection against the crease of my leg. I began to shimmy against him to position it against my throbbing center.

I pulled his shirt up and over his head and tugged it from one arm, unable to get it over the arm he braced his weight with, running my hands over every inch of his skin I could reach.

“Oh, Katniss…ughn,” he breathed on a ragged exhale as he slipped his hand into my pants and his thick fingers slid through my wetness. It was as though my body had set a slick trap, luring his fingers into slipping inside my body. And when they did, I instantly understood how girls could be stupid enough to get to pregnant. Because it wasn’t just stupidity that wanted me to let him slide his perfect cock into my agonizingly hollow body; it was a force as undeniable as gravity.

“I need you,” I moaned against his collarbone, my hips moving against his hand of their own accord.

He breathed into my ear, “Help me make you feel good.”

His fingers slid up and caught my clit and I clamped my legs against his sides and whimpered, “Yes, there.” As he began to rub me in languid circles, he kissed his way up my neck. It was almost too much sensation and I needed him to feel good too. I twisted my body in towards his and slid my hand down the trembling plane of his stomach, into his pants and gripped his hard cock as best I could in the confined space. I was too far gone to do anything fancy, so I just rubbed my palm, slick with sweat and pre-come, over the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he gasped and began rubbing me harder as if leading me by example. I tried to reciprocate but just squeezed him tightly as I felt my orgasm barreling its way towards me, my thighs trembling and my belly clenching. Peeta groaned and I felt the wetness of his release coat my hand. My pleasure peaked in response, the oblivion of my orgasm coursing through my body.

I must have cried out, because the next series of events occurred in such quick succession that I had trouble understanding them. Peeta’s hand clamped over my mouth just as an upstairs window scraped open. I heard Mrs. Mellark’s angry hiss about “those fucking cats” as something hard landed in the dirt a couple of feet to the right of our table. I was grateful for Peeta’s hand still covering my mouth, or I feared I may have shrieked. As she turned away from the window, I heard Mrs. Mellark’s complaint about the light coming from downstairs.

“Oh no,” Peeta whispered as he pulled his hand from my pants and gripped my wrist to pull mine from his. “She’s going to come down. You have to go.” The pinched panic in his voice as he threw on his shirt was so incongruous from the open-throated, pleasured moans he’d been making just moments before and I hated it. I sprung up from table, pushing him back towards the alley. He stumbled through the bakery door just as his mother burst into the kitchen. I pressed myself against the wall beside the doorway, too frightened to move.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I was trying to scare off the cat before it woke you.” He sounded anxious but reasonable.

“Why were you down here?” There was venom in her voice and I tensed, ready to defend him against her violence.

“Drawing,” he said almost too quietly for me to hear.

She made a derisive clicking sound in her throat and spat out, “For fuck’s sake, blow out that candle and go to bed. Now.” Then she added, “Get my shoe. I threw it at the cat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Peeta breathed and I watched the candle light dance against the far wall of the alley as he walked out and past me. I was still pressed against the wall as he re-entered the kitchen, his mother’s boot clutched under the arm carrying the candle and his free hand brushing across my stomach until it found and lightly squeezed my hand. 

I ran the entire way home in a sprint, fueled by my hatred for his mother. How could she be so horrible to such a wonderful person? She should be proud of him! With a horrified jolt, it occurred to me that my behavior towards him hadn’t been much better. I wanted desperately to protect him from other people’s injustices, but hadn’t protected him from my own chaotic behavior. Somehow I kept punishing him for things that were equally hurtful to him and out of his control. Was I punishing him for his optimism? His belief that we could be together? For making me care for him like this?

As I lay in bed beside a softly snoring Prim, I allowed myself to worry for him and to miss him. Desperately. I realized that I hadn’t wanted anyone this badly since my dad died. I wanted to stuff Peeta into that jagged hole that the loss of my dad and abandonment of my mother had left inside me. I truly understood how dangerous this was. It wasn’t some hormonal response or school girl crush: I was falling in love with Peeta Mellark. And my heart, tender and defenseless as a newborn fawn sensed danger on the wind but was powerless against the need to move towards it; like a dandelion opening to the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm appleblossomgirl0305 on Tumblr if you want to chat. Thanks for reading!


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